David was not a young man, nor Erin a young woman, but both were vital, and in their 70s and 60s (respectively) and they were discovering a life force neither had previously known. There was an energy between them that belied their age, like new growth after a deep rain — dry earth softening and opening up its nutrients, inspiriting a bloom, like a Zephyranthes. This profound synchronicity had lain dormant for decades, waiting for just the right moment — that convergence of their two histories with the openings in their lives that needed filling — Erin’s children having recently launched, and David’s wife having passed away.
An outsider might have mistaken David and Erin for a couple that had weathered many storms and rites of passage, though, in reality, this was not the case, as they had known each other for only a few months. Each had already led a full life, with vastly different careers, family situations, and social circles. One had visited thirty-four countries, the other never ventured further than a few states from home. David was surrounded by family on his multi-generational ranch, while Erin had led a nomadic life as a single mother with two children. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had found each other and instantly had so much in common, especially when, on the surface, there appeared to be no common ground whatsoever.
From their first connection in David’s office, the synchronicities rapidly presented themselves. There was something primal in their attraction — whatever one anticipated about the other invariably proved to be accurate. They enjoyed the same simple foods, preferably prepared at home, and spent weekends hiking on the ranch and enjoying the sunset from the deck, rather than flying off to exotic locales. Neither liked gifts nor special occasions, minus those private celebrations that cropped up spontaneously and were preceded by an evening of telling stories and laughing their asses off. Even their intellectual interests resonated in a way neither had known with their previous partners or even with close friends. Neither felt guilt about that; it was just another happy and welcome connection. At their ages, why not eke out every pleasure possible? There was no time for waiting.
And what a revelation to find they were both poetry buffs, David an expert on Renaissance literature, with degrees from Yale and Berkeley, Erin chasing her passion for poetry through a thick forest of verse, carving a path through the bramble with her intellectual machete. Erin knew instinctively what was good and understood the language of poetry, regardless of the era in which it was written. Her lack of a formal education on the subject, offset by native talent and a musician’s ear, gave her an odd advantage: she was more receptive to unusual verse and had the ability to suss out intriguing voices that might otherwise go unnoticed by more scholarly types. This impressed David greatly.
Sonnet 130: My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
Now here they were, having arrived at the same destination, their sensual compasses in sync. Magnetic forces, being what they are, seemed to dictate their coming together. Even their proclivities in the bedroom seemed predestined. They knew instinctively how to please one another, and as they quickly discovered, they had the same kinks. Sex was nothing like they’d experienced with previous partners. It began to define who they were, and both were finding their true north in ways they’d never previously imagined. Sometimes passion would ignite from a turn of phrase uttered or something both had tasted that set the synapses in motion. Once the idea was out there, nothing more needed to be said; it took on a life of its own, and Erin and David would give themselves fully to the experience.
The physical and emotional aspects of their collaboration were natural and easy, the grand finales in the bedroom overwhelmingly satisfying. Who could have anticipated something like this coming along so late in life? These were the sweet, dark cherries of a late harvest — the culmination of years of living, a wealth of sensations and memories conspiring. It was unlikely the sex would have been this good had they been younger and their bodies unblemished, with skin glowing and taut.
What many people miss is the subtle expression of a person as they age — the parts of their body they have leaned into, those parts that are worn, and those that seem not to have changed — all of it uniquely carved out by the circumstances of life. Left are discernible traces of experiences lived: velvety wrinkles around the ears, the curvature of a back that worked long to provide, half-closed eyes that have seen many overly bright days, and now seek the shade of the venerable walnut tree.
Long, wiry chest hairs reach for a cheek to tickle with tenderness. A strong neck and still broad shoulders fill out a well-worn work shirt reminiscent of heavy loads carried and the saddling of horses for a weekend ride. Though arms have softened and delicate skin is now camouflaged with fawn-colored sunspots, the hands remain strong, with vascularity, and the fingers smooth and graceful, with thick nails the color of pale dogwood. All of this is foretelling of bodies whose core is very much alive, and virile or mulieral. There is much of life yet to live — the best part, in fact.
David and Erin were enjoying an early morning hike. They had chosen a trail that snaked up the back dunes, which were sprinkled with cottonwood and jack pine and were full of birdsong. After descending the first dune and reaching the summit of the second, they found themselves looking out over Lake Michigan, its surface gently sparkling as it caught the first rays of sunlight, frothy waves slowly lapping the shore. The early morning breeze ushered cool, fresh air up the hill.
David and Erin found a clearing in the sand with an unobstructed view, then plopped down to enjoy the coffee and croissants they had packed for breakfast. The sound of the wind through the pines and the antics of the sandpipers were all the entertainment needed. They sat for some time, relaxing and taking in the scenery, before heading down the dune for a long hike on the beach. There were nearly twelve miles of walkable shoreline at the state park, and they had entered at its midpoint. They decided to head north, toward dramatic cliffs covered in lush vegetation — in some spots, marram grass danced in the wind, while other parts were thick with knarled trees whose profiles were shaped by the abiding winds off the lake.
As they walked, they hugged the tide’s edge, where the sand was wet and firm, and they kept up a good pace, stopping only occasionally to look out on the lake and to cool their feet by wading in. This early in the morning, there was not a soul in sight; it felt as if the earth held only the two of them, an intoxicating prospect. They were now several miles down the coast in the most remote part of the park, and it was there they decided to relieve themselves of all encumbrances. Impatiently, they stripped off their clothes, then tucked their belongings behind a bush well away from the water.
Gazing upon one another without clothing in the bright and unforgiving morning light, they took in all that was real and natural. It turned out to be easier than they had imagined. Erin always feared her body was too robust for most men’s taste, while David feared he was not well-endowed enough, or too furry, or that his gentle paunch might be problematic — all tedious worries on both of their accounts, as each was easily aroused by the other’s body as they were. It was, in fact, the imperfections that relaxed expectations, allowing genuine affection to flow, and for playful exploration to replace performative sex.
Upon seeing each other, here on the beach in the morning sun, as they truly were, neither felt shame. Perhaps this was because the birds and other living things surrounding them paid no heed, modeling for them a disregard for vanity. Here, in nature, they were free from societal expectations. They could just be.
For both David and Erin, there had been years of hiding their bodies, or only observing nudity through the lens of passion, or in a room staged to blur reality, or in attire meant to enhance assets and hide vulnerabilities. In all of their previous lovemaking, whether with others or each other, these imperfections and scars had been spirited away, although each had a story that wanted telling. Scars needed touching and loving, flaws needed kissing and reassurance, and those rare perfect spots needed acknowledgement — for their having survived life’s battles and remaining intact.
And then there were those parts of their bodies that flourished, like David’s luscious chest hair and his well-developed hands, and Erin’s ample, heavy bosom and her strong, muscular calves — these features, faultless in their innocence, feathered softly into all that surrounded them on the beach: the trees that bowed in deference to the wind, and the blackberry brambles, burdened with ripe fruit, that proliferated in thick clusters in the crevices between dunes.
David’s back was rounded from years of cradling children and reading to them, first his daughter and then his grandchildren, and from sitting at a desk, putting in the long hours needed to provide for his family. There was beauty in those curves. The body expressed the person David was — a person willing to bend to whatever was needed for his family, namely, love and sustenance.
Seeing his body, in the morning sun, brought tears to Erin’s eyes. She saw David for all that he was, a man who had lived a long life and had done right by his family. To her, there was nothing more beautiful. She felt this especially as she, herself, had never had these comforts that David offered without expectation — not with her own father, nor her husband. David was, in short, the man she had always wanted. And she did not have to imagine what he might become, as he was not imitating the body of someone more youthful. This body before her — it was him, and she loved it dearly.
And Erin’s body had its own story to tell, one of staying strong and constant for her children, against great odds and on her own. Her strong arms and broad shoulders were like a fortress; those within her embrace were protected from all things threatening, real or imagined. Muscular legs were at the ready to carry heavy loads and climb mountains, and ample breasts had provided nourishment and comfort for her children through their toddlerhood.
David thought of Erin as zaftig — a Yiddish word used to describe a woman with a pleasingly full, rounded figure. This same word is also evocative of food that is “succulent” or “juicy” — more traits David enthusiastically attributed to Erin. To him, Erin was like a ripe peach — the perfect balance of tart and sweet, soft to the bite with juices easily expressed — juices that ran down his neck when he engulfed her womanhood. Erin’s rubenesque beauty came at a high price, however, from years of what seemed unending hard work and parenting, and the stress of having to manage a mentally ill ex-spouse. David embraced all that was Erin, for that very reason. These were not physical flaws; they were a testament to her immense strength and, as such, were beautiful to him. In the throes of passion, whenever he took her from behind and pulled her full hips toward his groin, he worshipped this strength of hers. There was nothing better than planting his seed in that deep place, that proven pelvis that had borne two beautiful, similarly strong children.
So there they were, on that warm August day, lulled by the delicate counterpoint of the wind and waves, bare skin caressed by the breeze. David laid out their blanket in the partial shade of a cottonwood tree at the base of the dune, then placed their two rolled-up towels at the top of the blanket for their heads. Erin gently settled herself on her back, then David joined her. He lay on his left side, gazing hungrily at her luscious body, then leaned in to kiss the side of her face as he softly craddled her face in his large, warm hand. He then lathered his lips with saliva and dragged his moist mouth down into the crook of her neck, sucking and licking his way back up to her ear, which he enveloped as if starving, his soft, fat tongue filling every nook and cranny. This earplay sent chills down Erin’s spine, causing her nipples to harden and releasing her juices. She arched her back, putting her right breast as close as possible to David’s mouth, and when he persistently continued sucking her earlobe, she then grasped the back of his head, with its bristly, close-cropped hair, and encouraged him toward her breast. Rising up on one elbow, David put his mouth to Erin’s nipple and once fully engulfed, he sucked it forcefully, pulling it in as far as it would go, deep into his mouth. And he held it there, tugging, then sucking and tugging more, until Erin’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and she departed for a place far away, letting go of every bad thought.
After a good ten minutes of sucking intensely on her right breast, David got up and straddled Erin, his large, furry balls dangling and caressing her mons pubis. He then bent over to offer the same treatment to her left breast, this time sucking even more vigorously, as seemed to be her desire, alternating with light biting, then more hard sucking and tugging, all the while grinding his hard on into her pelvic bone. This went on for what seemed an hour, and Erin didn’t want it to stop. She would have him do this forever, were that possible.
Erin’s pussy was now incredibly wet, so much so that the slick liquid was dripping down her buttocks and pooling on the blanket. David sensed she was ready for Act II and so came down to lie once again on his side, though this time she turned to face him, also lying on her side. David’s head was still at breast level, and Erin, still not satiated, presented her left breast to his mouth and begged him to continue sucking her. She then grabbed his right hand and brought it to her vulva, rubbing his fingers into her labia until she felt his fingertips at her vaginal opening. She rubbed his hand back and forth on her slippery wetness, and pushed his fingers to her opening, then begged him once more — this time to please put his fingers in her, as many as possible. She wanted to feel his strong hand in her pussy, as much of it as would fit. He obliged her with three fingers, which he shoved in hard, over and over, all the while grinding her clit, which was now swollen and exposed, with the palm of his hand.
After giving her a good, hard pounding, David slowed the rhythm and relaxed his hand, while leaving his fingers in her. He then curved them ever so slightly and began pumping his fingertips into her G-spot, at first slowly and gently, then building in speed and pressure until the motion was frenetic and relentless. As he did this, he sucked her breast with all his might until Erin clasped his right arm uncontrollably with both legs, vigorously grinding her pelvis into his hand. He patiently held strong until she could stand it no longer. As she released herself to the orgasm, David felt Erin’s vaginal muscles clench his fingers, spasming and contracting intensely. Then she begged him to please stop, it was enough. It was enough.
Ever so gently, John let the motions of his hand and mouth subside as Erin melted into oblivion, her body fully spent, raw and tingling in the hot summer sun. As she fell into a deep slumber, David pulled his fingers out slowly, working to exit her vagina without waking her. He then lay on his back, the warm rays of the sun on his dick and balls, and he closed his eyes. He could still feel Erin’s vagina gripping his fingers in her final, intense orgasm. In this reverie, David took his pussy soaked hand and added a bit of his own saliva, then finished himself off with both of their juices. Just before ejaculating, he positioned himself over Erin’s slumbering body and, at the final moment, gently deposited his wet gift into her labia. She would enjoy its musky, sticky smell when she woke a couple of hours later, and it would lead her to masturbate, this time as David slept.
As the sun began its descent, David and Erin washed themselves in the lake, the cold water shocking their systems and bringing them back to the present, invigorating them for the task at hand — to get back to their car before dark. They toweled off, then hurriedly put on their clothes, layering with the sweaters they’d packed as the evening chill had arrived.
Briskly, they made their way south on the beach, then over the dunes, taking in a glorious sunset as they went. They reached their car just before darkness set in, then it was off to Friendly’s Tavern for their favorite hamburgers and a huge Caesar salad. With legs pleasantly sore from miles of walking in the sand and bodies still buzzing from a long afternoon of lovemaking, David and Erin would sleep well.
@Emma last tag, but I think you’ll have a deep appreciation for Chris’ work.
Thanks for a well-crafted story, Chris. I would not be surprised to learn there are some first-person experiences in your narrative.