Note: For those of you familiar with my previous stories, this will be a change. In the case of my other submissions, the stories are about the sex. In this romance, the sex is about the story.
Introduction
My cousin, Ron Russell, suffered an accident at age ten. He has suffered total nerve damage to his left arm, shoulder to finger tips. It is not paralyzed, but simply limp and unresponsive. Since then he has habitually carried his left arm in a canvas harness. It has a strap around his chest, a strap over each shoulder, and then a double loop that supports his left arm, bent at the elbow, at upper forearm and wrist.
During Ron’s Freshman year (about 1969) he enjoyed a friends-with-benefits relationship with Ellie, a more experienced young woman over one year his senior. She was at least partly attracted to Ron because of his eight-plus-inch erection. He’d named his dick Seymour because, he said, when you see it, you see more.
Ron told us (his wife, me and my wife) this story during an evening visit.
The following action takes place during his sophomore year in college. His girlfriend is Audrey Lyle, long-distance runner and daughter of John Lyle, a professor at the college and a close-to-full-blooded Cherokee Indian. Her mother is Maureen, a Caucasian woman that works in the county treasury. John and Maureen met Ron many weeks before this, and approve of him as their daughter’s boyfriend. Audrey lives at home while Ron lives in an all-male dorm. The two have been getting pretty romantic lately, but Ron has not yet initiated sex. He is very self-conscious about his disability and the sunburst-like scars that mar the front and back of his left shoulder. He does not consider himself worthy of Audrey’s physical love, even though they have both admitted to loving the other.
This feeling is so profound that it has had an actual psychological/physical effect on Ron’s virility. Audrey became impatient and convinced him, with a little physical contact that was sensual though not sexual, that she was not repulsed by any part of his disability. As can be seen in the beginning, his psychological hang up has been, well, hung up.
Guys know this, but women may not. When there are two or more men in the shower, we almost never make reference to each other’s equipment. I would guess women are the same about their breasts or figures, but I wouldn’t know. Haven’t cared enough to ask. Anyhow, another man may ask you about scars (from surgeries, for example) or kid you about hickeys or comment on your physique (with admiration, curiosity, or derisive kidding), but peckers are out of bounds. Size, especially, is off limits conversation-wise. If some other guy commented on your dick, you’d wonder immediately about his orientation.
So what happened the following Sunday evening might have been pretty embarrassing…
I had just finished my shower. I’d been alone, but Al and Terry Henry came in a few minutes apart. I paid no attention while I reviewed the subject matter for an essay test the next morning for Anthropology I. I struggled as usual with drying myself. Yes, I used a tight terry-cloth wrist band to hold the towel, but it was still far less efficient than being able to grip the towel. Especially for drying my right underarm and forearm.
The thought formed out of nothing that it would be nice to have Audrey here to help. With that, I remembered the sensation of her hands and lips on my right shoulder and chest, and the sight of her caressing my left arm.
“Holy shit! Keep that sumbitch away from me!”
“Whoa! Ronny! You sure must have had a happy thought!”
They startled me out of my distraction. I looked down. Seymour stood about eighty percent at attention, pointing stiffly at an angle toward the wall like a divining rod.
I’m sure I turned a few shades of red. But the last thing you do in a situation like that is cover it up or run off or in any way behave as if you’re embarrassed. Even if you ain’t proud of it, you better act like you ain’t ashamed. The sharks will smell fear and rip you to shreds.
“Yeah, I was thinking about how nice it was when I showered with Ellie and she dried me off. Why? Jealous?” Yes, I lied. They did not need to know that thoughts of Audrey had hoisted my flagpole.
Terry replied hurriedly, “No! Just nervous! I’m not turning my back on that, that’s for sure!”
Al remained casual. “Yeah, probably. You know, if you advertised that you were that well-equipped, you could get laid every night, twice on Saturdays, and she’d probably bring you breakfast in bed. Or they would.”
“Good idea. Al, next time you’re hiding in the girls’ john in the student center, why don’t you put some advertising on the walls for me?”
“Because I’m too busy writing advertising for me. Do your own work.”
By that time Seymour relaxed almost back to complete quiescence. I finished drying off and put on the clean underwear I’d brought in.
“All right, Terry, it’s been caged. You can pick up the soap now.” And I went to my room. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes and imagined Audrey’s hands on my stomach, kissing my chest. Ol’ Seymour jumped up so quick he almost ripped a hole in the briefs. The problem seemed to be solved. I’d been wrong. Aud could do something after all.
The next morning when I got to her house, I did not tell her directly that the problem seemed solved.
“Audrey my love, do you think your folks would object if I took you on an overnight date Friday, assuming we can both get out of work?”
“I can, I’m sure, if I let ’em know today. What did you have in mind?”
“I thought I’d take you to some seedy flophouse in the old part of town and lock you up and do unspeakable shameful things to your body.”
She chuckled. “That’s the best offer I’ve heard all day. Go ahead and ask them. Ask them just like that. I want to see what they say.” She did not ask if I thought I could make love to her now. I think she knew. More than that, I think she knew before I knew.
That evening I accompanied Aud to her house. We were both greeted warmly by Aud’s parents; surprised warmth for me since they did not expect me. John invited me to sit and asked if I wanted something to drink, but I declined.
“Thank you, Sir, but no thanks. I do have to get going. But I wanted to ask you-slash-warn you that I wanted to take Audrey out on an overnight date Friday. Bring her back Saturday sometime.”
John’s eyebrows went up about halfway. “Oh? What’s up?”
“Seymour!” was my immediate silent response. It stayed silent. “I thought I’d take her to a seedy flophouse in the old part of town, lock her up, and do unspeakable shameful things to her body.”
John blinked. Twice. No other expression though. Maureen hid a smile. John spoke first. “Audrey is a grown woman, even if her actions often belie the fact…” he glanced slyly at her. She gave him a look of mock exasperation. “If it’s okay with her, I don’t see how we can object. But I’ll hold you responsible for any medical bills that may result.” Only later did I realize that comment might be a very serious warning about complications.
Maureen looked more concerned. “Ron, can you be finished with her before noon on Saturday? I’d planned to take her shopping.”
“He will!” That from Aud.
I could not be trumped that easily. “I’d planned on it. I’ll have to be at work at one on Saturday, and I’ll need time to wash off the blood and bury the evidence. But I doubt she’ll be in any shape for shopping.”
“All right with me,” John muttered, just loud enough to be heard. “Save me some money.”
You can see why we got along.
That week took forever.
I made reservations in a motel in LaSalle, a small town just south of Greeley. It came highly recommended because they were satisfied if the register was signed as “so-and-so and guest.”
Audrey’d asked me if she should bring anything other than her toothbrush, hairbrush, and a change of clothes.
“Iodine or Bactine. Bandages and tape. Aspirin. And any other pills you normally take. I’ll provide the gag and handcuffs and instruments of torture.”
She looked at me quizzically. “You’re going to keep up this little game right to the end, aren’t you?”
I looked genuinely puzzled. (I hoped I did. I tried.) “What game?”
Friday afternoon I walked Audrey home from the weight room. My weekend supplies were in my alternate gym bag–the one not permanently imbued with the scent of sweat socks and used jockstraps. We’d both kept the workouts easy and short, (“You’ll need all your strength to survive what I’m going to do to you.” “You’re the one who’ll need all his strength!”), so we weren’t especially sweaty. We stayed only a moment at her house, just long enough for her to get her own bag, her purse, and a quick kiss from both parents.
I nodded approvingly. “That’s good. The next time you see her, she’ll be changed forever.”
John muttered, “Hopefully for the better. But I guess it would have to be,” which earned him another playful look.
As we left, Audrey handed me the keys to the Merc. “You know where this seedy flophouse is, so you drive. I’m durned if I’ll drive myself to my own torture.”
Twenty minutes later we were in the motel room. She looked around. “They’re making flophouses of a much higher quality than I would have guessed.” I turned up the heat and helped her off with her coat. There were two beds. I tossed the coat on the one closest to the door. She helped me with mine and tossed it on top of hers. We stood in the middle of the room and kissed one of the most passionate and unreserved kisses we’d ever shared. And Seymour perked up immediately, which abolished the last shred of doubt I’d had about that night.
“Do you want to shower first, or make love first? Or make love in the shower? Or sit around and talk about it for a while?” She didn’t answer right away. Understandable. Tough choice. “I love you, Audrey. No man has ever loved a woman more than I love you. Whatever will please you, that’s what we will do.”
That earned me another kiss, even more passionate than the one before, if possible. But she still hesitated, looking around, uncertain where to begin.
“What’s the matter Aud? You weren’t really expecting handcuffs and whips, were you?”
“No. I’m just nervous. After that scene I put on last week, and now it’s me that hesitates!” She sat down on the edge of the bed. I sat down next to her. “Ron, I’ve never been naked with a man before. And I’ve never been with a naked man before, either. Steve and I made love in the car. And we never got naked. I dropped my pants, or wore a skirt, and he unzipped. We had our hands in each other’s clothes, and his hard-on in my hand, and my pussy in his, and then his dinghy in my thingie,” she giggled, and I supplied the male equivalent. “But it was always dark and a little crowded and very urgent and passionate.
“This is so different! It’s light and roomy and warm, and a nice bed and I’m sort of intimidated. One thing I’ve always liked about us is that our kissing and petting is more comfortable and relaxed. And now, stupidly, I find that very thing kind of intimidating!”
“Well, let’s see what we can do to make you more relaxed.” I walked over to the door and turned off the lights. As with most motels, soft light filtered through the drapes from the light outside. I walked over to her and extended my hand. She took it and I pulled her up, so she stood in front of me.
“Let’s start where we’ve been before. Care to take off my shirt?”
She smiled with delight, and did so, starting with the harness.
In a few short minutes, we were both unclothed. She walked over to the door and flipped the light switch. I turned to face her. She was beautiful. She had a slight curve at the waist, with relatively narrow hips for a woman. Her shoulders were also narrow, which I knew. Her breasts were small and firm. The ribs were visible, just barely. I said she could have used a few pounds, but I don’t know where she’d have put them. Everything was in perfect proportion to everything else. She needed only one last touch. I crooked my finger at her, smiling, and she walked to me. I moved her so she faced away from me and the doorway. By chance, we were both facing a three-quarter-length mirror on the wall. I pulled the band from her hair, releasing it from the ponytail, and moved my fingers through it, so it hung over her shoulders and back. I kissed her neck through her hair.
My erection made this a little awkward. I might skewer her in the back if I got careless.
She looked at herself in the mirror. “Not bad, if you like a stick figure with no boobs.”
I pushed my erection down, and held myself against her back, my hand around her waist. “Angling for compliments, or seeking reassurance? Audrey, I intend that you will never lack the former, or need the latter. You are not a stick figure. You are svelte and athletically slender and incredibly sexy. And what do you call these if not boobs?” I slid the back of my thumbnail along the underside of her right breast. The nipple crinkled up at once.
“Those are itty bitty titties.”
I cupped the right one in my hand and covered it, rubbing just a little.
“Anything over a handful is wasted.”
While still looking at the two of us in the mirror, she reached behind her and took hold of my penis. It had receded a little, but responded immediately to her touch. Her eyes got big. Still holding it, she turned around and looked at it. “My God. You expect to put that into me? It’ll never fit. I know my vagina is supposed to be flexible, but it’s not made of rubber!”
“We’ll take it slow. And I brought along some lubrication, just in case.”
She laughed. “So did I! I brought Vaseline. What did you bring?”
“Three-in-One oil.” That got the response I wanted, judging from the facial expression. “Hey, either that or axle grease! I wanted to bring Wesson Oil, but the cafeteria ladies were not helpful. Especially when I told them what I wanted it for.”
She started laughing. “I can just see that! You asking a couple of grandmothers…” she laughed even harder, having trouble finishing the sentence, “…for some Wesson Oil to use…” a gasp or two, wipe eyes, choke, continue, “…as a sex lubricant!” She plopped down on the bed. She’d dropped me and was holding her sides. “Did any of them have a heart attack?”
“Nope. Actually, they wouldn’t give me any Wesson Oil because they insisted Crisco works much better. But then they argued about how to apply it, and to which person. They got way too graphic for me, and I bailed out.”
Something about that whole concept must have hit a nerve. Audrey laughed so hard she was crying in no time. I let her be, walked over and turned the heat up–it felt just a smidge too cool for naked bodies–and I sat down on the bed next to her and waited for the hysterics to wind down. Seymour already had.
Eventually she calmed down, and we started kissing, playfully at first, then with passion. Foreplay lasted quite a while. And we really did need that lubrication. She’d become wet with the foreplay, but still quite tight. She’d been celibate for five months, and I got the distinct impression that Steve offered nothing bigger than average, so she needed the extra help. And we did have to go slow. Ordinarily I suppose a couple would use the missionary position, at least at first. The man could hold himself up with one arm and use the other hand to put his penis into his partner. That wouldn’t work for me.
So she helped. She applied the Vaseline to my erection, playfully rubbing the excess onto my crewcut. She fit my erection into her. I did not thrust, but let her control the penetration. It hurt at first. She didn’t say so, but I could tell.
“Aud, shall I back out? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Not a chance! You aren’t getting out of this that easy! Besides, it won’t be any easier later. I remember it hurt a little my first time, too. I got through it and found it worth the discomfort. I’ll bet it’ll be even more worth it this time!”
Finally I was in. It took a while, but was well worth the wait. I still did not thrust or move much at all. I let her adjust to it. Then, “Aud, I’m going to squash you for just a second.”
“Won’t be the first time.”
“Will too! I’ve never squashed you before!”
“Not you, no. But I’ve been laid on before. And I must admit this bed is more comfy than the back seat of the Merc.”
I rested on her for a second and then rolled us over so I lay on my back. Much better.
We made love twice. The first was not particularly successful–my fault. Lost control way too soon. But I made up for it the second time. She had never experienced oral sex before either and the tongue and lips caresses of her labia and clitoris brought a mixed reaction. Shocked at first. She almost asked me to stop. But the unexpected pleasures of her body took over, and she just laid back and arched her hips into the air and surrendered to me completely. I didn’t keep at it too long because I wanted to make love to her, and when I stopped she grabbed Seymour and put him into her and we repeated our positions from the first time. That second time was outstanding. For both of us, judging from her behavior.
She sighed happily, smiling. “You were right. Twice is wonderful. And that other thing you did. I’m speechless. Did Ellie teach you that?”
“Of course. And any time you get the urge, you can return the favor.”
“Hmmm. We’ll see. I’ll have to think about that for a while. Might be fun though. For me, I mean. I’m sure it will be fun for you.” She sighed and lay quiet for a few minutes. “Steve and I didn’t know what we were missing.”
“Y’know, Love, sometimes I wonder what you ever saw in that guy.”
She shrugged while still lying on me. Her forearms were resting on my chest. “He was a gentleman, and good-looking and well-built and smart and earnest and loving. A lot like you, in other words, though you have a weirder sense of humor and you’re more relaxed. He loved me, and I loved him. We’d planned on getting married even before we finished college.”
“So what happened? What did he do to get you to call it off?”
“Nothing! He called it off!” She sighed. “His parents called it off. Everything went fine until his parents met me and my parents. Oh, they said nothing at the time, but two days later he called me. To cancel our date. To cancel our engagement. Nearly in tears, from the sound of his voice, but he gave in to Mommy and Daddy. They called it off.”
“Why?” I suspected, but it seemed so ridiculous that I could hardly credit the possibility.
“Because they found out I was, in their exact words, a half-breed. They would not have their son marry a half-breed. They couldn’t stand the thought of their grandchildren being from the child of a mixed marriage.” She looked wistful, but not grieving. I suppose she’d gotten the real sadness and humiliation out of her system long ago. I hoped so.
“Why, those provincial prejudiced pissants! That has got to be one of the stupidest things I have ever heard! Did it occur to them–or to Steven–that you are the wonderful and beautiful girl you are because you are of mixed descent?” I wouldn’t use the term “half-breed.” I’d heard it before, in high school, applied to one of my classmates whose parents were Mexican and white. It sounded stupid and denigrating then and it still did.
“I’m inclined to look that sonofabitch up and …”
She put her hand over my mouth, gently but firmly. “No. Let’s drop it, Ron. I don’t care about him anymore. I love you. If you will make love to me again, it will abolish forever any lingering thoughts I may have about ol’ what’s-his-name.” She kissed me, using lips and tongue on my lips, and my neck and chest and belly.
I kissed back, of course. My right hand went to her buttocks, and caressed the top of the cleavage between, and down along her left cheek and between her legs.
We made love. I hadn’t expected to be able to a third time in so short a span, but I guess Audrey brought out the best in me. It lasted much longer, and judging from her short happy cries and moans, was another complete success.
Soon after, we got out of bed and into the shower. She’d never showered with a man either, but she took right to it, like an otter in the water for the first time. She helped to dry me off.
When we emerged from the bathroom she started to get dressed.
“Hold it right there, young lady! No clothes just yet!”
She looked up, curious, from where she bent over the bed, grabbing her underwear. I trotted over to my bag and fished out a gift-wrapped package. She looked curious but unwrapped it. It was the fluffiest and whitest terry-cloth bathrobe I’d been able to find. I helped her on with it, then stepped back to admire her as she tied the belt. She looked at herself in the mirror, fluffing the collar of the robe up around her face and rubbing her cheek against the cloth.
“Ron, it’s beautiful! But how did you know I needed a new robe? And why?”
“The how is that I asked your mother. I wanted to get you something personal and sort of intimate without being too intimate, and something you would appreciate. She suggested a robe.
“As for the why…well, several reasons. You look terrific in white as I’m sure you know. And you deserve to be pampered, and I can’t afford silk, so this is the closest thing I could manage. And because I love you, and I don’t get you presents very often, and I wish I did and for this special occasion I thought I should.”
“Thank you! I love it! But I didn’t get you anything.”
“You gifted me magnificently just a little while ago. Nothing I could wish for could be as generous or as valuable. However, there is one more reason I got that for you.” I stepped up to her and undid the belt, letting the robe open a little in the front. I put my right hand into the opening and around her and pulled her against me. She pulled the right half away from her as I did, so that the cloth did not come between us. I kissed her as romantically as I could. She seemed to like it.
“I wanted you to have it on because it’s so quick and easy to get off!”
“Which makes it even more perfect than I first thought!” We kissed again.
We put on clean clothes, she brushed out her hair, and we left. We were hungry. After supper we went back to the motel and lay down together on the bed. We both dozed off. I roused us both and we got undressed and under the covers. We cuddled close to each other and went right to sleep.
Sometime in the night I awoke with a tremendous hard-on. I hesitated; then I decided to try to wake Audrey. If she did not wake easily, I’d forget it.
“Aud?”
She slept on her side, facing me. It was dark, but not so dark that I could not see her face. I put my hand on the curve of her waist and ran it softly along the outside of her thigh, almost to her knee, and back. She stirred, and her left hand found my right.
“Audrey my love?”
“Not now. I’m dreaming I’m in heaven.”
“You must be, Dear. Because you’re with me, and I know I am. However, I seem to have acquired this odd condition, and I hoped you could help me with it.”
Her hand left mine and reached over, found my erection, so big and hard that it ached, and held it. Her eyes opened. Wide.
“That feels even bigger than before!”
“It does from the inside, too.”
She sat up, throwing the covers off the foot of the bed with sudden enthusiasm. “Turn onto your back.”
I did so. She held Seymour in both hands, rubbing gently, and kissing him. She took him in her mouth briefly, then grabbed the Vaseline off the dresser and applied as needed. She moved up and fit him into her. The copulation lasted just long enough. She came, enjoying shuddering orgasms, which dissipated my control and I came too, with her. That orgasm lasted half an hour, easy, and I don’t care what some clock might have registered.
Something else happened in there, too. I’ve never told anyone else about this, except Audrey. But nowadays it’s getting more acceptable for a man to cry publicly, even with happy emotions, so I guess I can risk admitting this.
Sometime in there, just before orgasm, I became so overwhelmed by the emotion of making love to Audrey so urgently, so needfully, that my eyes teared up and I experienced that ache in my throat. I cried for joy, for the sheer unbounded happiness of that instant, and the unbounded love I felt for her, and that we expressed that love in the best possible way.
I never even suspected that I could love that deeply; that I had it within me to be so overcome with delight and joy and love. It filled me with shock and wonder, and those things added to the already drowning wave of emotions that were washing through me, and I could only try to ride out the wave. I sat up, as if to rise above the waters, and kissed her breasts and spilled some of my tears onto her soft dark skin, and clutched her to me as we both came and came and came.
As we finished shuddering I reached up and caressed her hair, and her face. I discovered a few drops of moisture on her cheek.
And we kissed and kissed and kissed. On each other’s lips and chin and cheeks and neck and shoulders, randomly and urgently, slowly winding down. Even spent, I did not want to leave her, and I held her by her firm buttocks, so she would not roll off. She laughed softly, understanding, and cooperated, and pillowed her head on my right pec, and seemed to go back to sleep.
Was that romantic? Or pornographic? I think romantic, but I’ll admit to bias.
That was not the last time I felt that shuddering wave of emotion while making love to Audrey. It happened often. Not every time. Just often enough to make it unforgettably special and powerful. I never got used to it, never learned to expect it, and never able to resist it.
During the night she rolled off of me, pulled the covers over us, and snuggled close and stayed that way all night. I awoke lying on my left side. She also lay on her left side, her bare buttocks pressed against my crotch, her back against my chest. My right arm draped over her waist, my hand resting against her diaphragm, just below her breasts.
I moved carefully and got out of bed without waking her though she did stir and whimper a little as I separated from her. Something very important needed doing. And I needed to do it right then while I had the chance.
I walked around the foot of the bed and sat down cross-legged on the floor and looked at her. I had never seen her sleeping nor even seen her face totally relaxed. I didn’t know when again I might have the chance to see her this way.
God, she was beautiful! Some part of my heart put her up on that pedestal again though I didn’t worry it would have any lasting physical effect. But it reaffirmed that I loved her more than I’d ever thought possible, and that this wonderful sexy beautiful woman was now my responsibility to protect, and cherish, and make happy, all to the ultimate limits of my abilities. And I knew that it could never be enough. For her, yes. Audrey would ask for little and be content with less, from me, because she loved me. But it would never be enough for me.
I sat there and looked at her, noting and memorizing every curve and feature. We are rarely able to stare at someone like that. A picture, yes, but not a person, closely and intimately. I’ll say it again: God, she was beautiful!
I finally got off the floor and crept into the bathroom. Even the view of God’s most stunning creations must be abandoned at the insistence of one’s bladder. When I emerged from the bathroom, she was sitting on the bed, naked and relaxed about it.
“About time you got out of there! I need to go too!” And she scurried past me. I used the time to sort through clothing. We’d dumped all of ours into one big pile on the other bed. Accidentally on purpose I picked up her bra and noticed the size tag: 32A. I chuckled a little. That measured eight inches and two widths smaller than Ellie’s. Since I’m on the subject of sizes, I’ll mention that Ellie measured 40-27-36. We’d got out a tape measure once and checked. Then she measured some of my dimensions. Chest, waist, hips, biceps (right and left). And the important one. Since the other measurements were taken in the nude, it only took a minute of attention to get that one ready for the tape. But I suspect the one I woke up Audrey for that night exceeded any previous best.
Later on I went through the same thing with Audrey. Just for fun. She was 32-21-31. Not even close to any kind of classically beautiful shape. But it was all firm and responsive and soft and smooth, and perfect for her.
Audrey came out of the bathroom. “What are you doing?”
“Sniffing your underwear. Licking your bra. The usual morning routine.”
“Oh. Okay. I thought it might be something weird.” She looked me over and stared for a moment at my crotch and thighs. She laughed. “Well, you need another shower! As do I! I woke up last night when I finally got off so you could breathe. I could not believe how much spilled out of me! It seemed like a pint, at least! All over you and me and the sheets!”
I grinned. She was obviously all over her shyness. “Yeah, it felt like that when I made the donation, too. I’m surprised I’m not dehydrated.”
The shower lasted quite a while. We enjoyed kissing each other and touching and fondling various body parts, and the soap and water added a kinky sensation we both liked. She seemed to enjoy our mutual nakedness as much as I.
That night in the motel was like an ignition before liftoff. Audrey and I discovered an appetite for each other that made King Midas’s lust for gold seem like a passing fancy. We were two horny young’uns in love as much as two people could be. We gloried in the wonderful beautiful coupling, the fucking in all its passionate pornographic glory.
For about two weeks we thought of little else. We both confessed to each other that every waking moment anticipated when again we would make love, and thinking, plotting, how and when we could couple again. There were times when her parents were both at work and we had no classes. There were times we considered blowing off classes and making love instead. We weren’t quite that far gone, but we came close a time or two.
It overwhelmed us more than just the physical wonderfulness of sex. The depth of emotion that went with our love-making, the coupling beyond merely the physical, the transcendent joining of minds and souls left us both energized and drained, exhausted and exhilarated, frantic and calm.
Let me tell you about one time. The following spring quarter gave us a beautiful warm night in early April. It had been a warm and sunny day, the kind that the flowers somehow feel from underground and sense it’s time to look around above the soil. Audrey and I were in the back seat of the Merc. She sat on my lap, facing me, legs around me. We were joined and enjoying the fondling and kissing as much as the wonderful sensations lower down. We’d got to where we could stay in intercourse for over half an hour, stimulating each other with subtle movements, then holding still and getting our minds elsewhere.
She snuggled her head against my chest and sighed.
“This is just so incredible. Love-making with ol’ what’s-his-name was never like this.”
Some small and annoying thought popped up, unwanted, in my head and escaped through my mouth before I had a chance to corner it and kill it.
“Audrey, you and he were formally engaged before you made love the first time, weren’t you?”
“Uh-huh. Why?”
“It occurred to me just now that you and I have never even discussed marriage. Which seems odd only now that I think about it. We both love each other more than anything. I can’t imagine not being with you for the rest of my life. I think you feel the same.”
“I do. I can’t imagine not being with me for the rest of my life either.”
“Good one. Princess, you’re getting funnier every day.”
“Your influence. And yes, just in case you need to hear it, I don’t know how I could ever live without you. Nor do I expect that I will ever have to.”
“So why haven’t you mentioned marriage?”
“Why haven’t you? Isn’t it the man’s place to propose?”
“That’s just a rumor. Propaganda from the jewelers’ union. I have my reasons.”
“Good. Hang onto them for a while. I no longer have any interest in getting married before we graduate. And I don’t need a diamond ring to show the world I’m promised to my man.” She was suddenly serious. She kissed me, long and fervently, and let her lips linger next to mine, brushing mine with hers. “We are partners for life, Ron. I knew it months ago. So did you.”
“Audrey, I love you. Let us be married right now. Tonight. Right this minute.”
She looked down at where we were joined. “I’m not sure we’ll find a preacher quite that liberal.”
“We don’t need one. Audrey, before God and these stars, I, Ron Jon Russell, promise to love you and honor you and cherish you, to cleave only unto you, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death us do part.”
Her eyes widened and I heard a catch in her breath. “Ron, before the gods of the earth and the sky, and the stars and the Earth itself, I, Audrey Whitefeather Lyle, promise to love you and honor you and cherish you, holding on only to you, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death us do part.”
“That which God and the Earth and sky has joined together, let no man, no thing, put asunder. Amen.”
“Amen.”
“Ron, you may kiss the bride. I believe I will.” And I did. And she kissed back, and our passion for each other flared like a sunburst that consumed us both. We were both so overcome with joy and love that neither of us could stifle the tears.
How’s that for romantic??
Maureen thought so. We did not reveal the specifics. But one afternoon while Maureen and Audrey were making a quick grocery run, John grumbled–again–about our apparent lack of formal commitment, and, specifically, my own unwillingness to bind a woman to me through force of law.
“I’m disabled! There are so many little things I cannot do; I don’t want to inflict my handicaps on Audrey.”
“Ron, that is your pride speaking, not your heart.”
“Don’t knock pride. Sometimes it’s all we handicapped folks have to get us through.”
He replied, “Ron, pride or not, aren’t you’re denying not only yourself, but Audrey? She would be more than willing to assume all those negative things, and more. Do you truly–” At this point, Aud and Maureen came in the front door, mostly loaded with groceries. They hurried straight into the kitchen. Then Aud came back out. John kept talking. “…think you have the right to dictate to Audrey what burden she should or should not assume? I understand your argument, but are your reasons sufficient to avoid marriage if–”
“Dad! Stop hassling my boyfriend! If you must know, we’re already married anyway!”
“WHAT??!!”
Maureen came rushing in from the kitchen. “What did I just hear? Audrey, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Ron and I are already married. Oh, don’t look all panicked! You didn’t miss any wedding ceremony, and we didn’t sneak off to some justice of the peace! But we have made our marriage vows to each other. The usual ones, ‘until death us do part,’ and the whole bit.”
John looked slightly mollified. “That’s not the same thing. If it isn’t legal and formal, it’s not binding. It’s just words.”
Audrey sighed a big loud sigh. “Daddy dear, it is obvious from the rising divorce rate that the formal and legal words aren’t binding either. Trust me. Trust us. Legal-shmegal, the vows Ron and I have taken are as binding and sincere as any spoken in any church anywhere, or in front of any legal entity.”
John refused to be satisfied with that, but Maureen thought well of it. Welcomed me to the family. In her way, she was as special as her daughter.
END