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From: Richard Todd <richard@magi.com>
Subject: Candlemas Chapter 11
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The following text contains detailed descriptions of consensual
heterosexual lovemaking. If you are not comfortable with such things, or
if you are forbidden to read them by reason of your age or the laws of
where you live, I must ask you not to read it.

This is Chapter 11 of a novel in progress to be called Candlemas. As
always, comments are welcome and appreciated. They can be sent to
richard@magi.com.

Eleven

 A warm wind was coming from the west, down the river. The humidity it
bore was pleasantly caressing for people who had the time to relax by
the river's edge. I was sitting on a bench in what I've always called
Island Park. Funny, to this day I don't know what it's real name might
be. Angèle lay on the ground before me, a straw hat pulled over her
face, her legs resting on the bench between my knees and her skirt
tucked between her thighs to provide a little public decency.
 Despite our recent resolution not to spend daytimes together, I had
phoned Angèle suggesting that, since it was too hot to be doing anything
productive, we should each cycle to the park and laze about. I got there
first, installing myself on my favourite bench, and when she arrived a
few minutes later our only greeting was an exchange of smiles. Leaning
her bike against the end of the bench, she withdrew a tiny basket from
its handlebar bag and sat next to me. The basket contained a variety of
finger foods from celery and carrot sticks to olives and cherries and a
jar of a thick homemade dip. Angèle fed us with her fingers, as was our
custom. When a serious- looking young man stopped on his way by to stare
at us with a censorious frown, Angèle spread ribbons of the dip on her
lips for me to suck off.
 Now, a couple of hours later, we still hadn't spoken. It had become one
of those games we played, each understanding the rules without having
discussed them. I found myself absently caressing the soles of her feet,
comparing the lines and curves there with the vees and eddies of the
rapids I saw whenever I lifted my eyes. I was about to break the silence
with some germane observation when Angèle lifted her hat and spoke.
 "Will this be a good night?" she asked.
 "For . . . ? Oh! My famous swim."
 "The moon is not full yet, but I think it will be bright. Will the wind
be too much?"
 I shrugged. "It'll probably be okay. It usually dies down in the
evening on days like this. Yes, I imagine this would be as good a night
as we can hope for. I've worked it all out. I've even swum part way
across to make sure my assumptions about the current were okay."
 "And you think it will be safe?"
 "Sure, unless there's a thunderstorm. In that case we'll call it off."
 The plan was simple. Shortly after sunset I would go down to the river
and swim across to the Ontario shore where Angèle would be waiting for
me. What might happen upon my arrival, I was content to leave to her
devising.
 The execution was not so simple. In some places the current was faster
than my swimming speed, so I'd spent a lot of time with a map and some
hydrographic data trying to figure what I would have to aim for if I
were to arrive at the point on Angèle's side of the river where we were
to meet. It was some small distance downstream from her house and, more
to the point, about two kilometres below mine. Even at that, I figured
that I would have to angle into the current for most of the crossing,
letting the flow carry me along the other shore if I overcompensated. I
couldn't afford to get too close below the rapids by the park because,
in the dark, the complex currents there might overwhelm me. And for that
matter the air had to be relatively calm because I would not be able to
adjust my breathing to approaching waves, which I would see unclearly,
if at all.
 But careful though I might be in my plans, I wasn't especially worried.
I left that to Angèle. She was enthusiastic about the idea as a fantasy,
but in practical terms she considered it dangerous. No doubt she was
right.
 She withdrew her legs and sat up abruptly. "So, it will take two hours,
you say. Will you phone me before you leave your apartment?"
 "Only if I have to call it off. Expect me at eleven, right there at our
spot. And what shall I be looking for as I approach the shore?"
 The suggestion of worry disappeared from her face. "Ah oui! I forgot to
tell you, I bought five candles with big, fat wicks, and five glass
things for them so the wind can't blow them out. I'm going to put them
along our little shore maybe five feet apart. But I don't know if you
will see them from far away. You have memorized some landmarks you can
see in the dark from your side?"
 "How do you say 'don't worry' in French."
 Her only answer was to grin with a shrug and blow me a kiss.

 On my way home I became aware of how tired I was. Despite, or perhaps
because of the heat, the last night's lovemaking had been engrossing and
left little time for sleep. I resisted the temptation to nap, worrying
that I might not wake in time for my rendezvous with the river. Instead,
I busied myself preparing a light supper and organizing my Summa notes.
When the time came for me to head down to the river, I had some sense of
the potential gravity of what I was about to do, but it wasn't strong
enough to make me reconsider.
 Except for a thin band of dark cloud partly obscuring the sunset, the
sky was clear as I walked toward the shore. There was an intermittent
suggestion of a breeze from the east, but the air was otherwise calm and
still very warm. I came to the end of the road, scrambled up a small
embankment and across the railway tracks, then picked my way through
some bushes to the secluded spot on the river bank that I'd chosen for
this venture.
 I took off my clothes, folded and wrapped them in a plastic bag, then
hid them among some rocks. After testing the water and determining that
it was comfortably cool, I waded quickly to the point where it was deep
enough for swimming.
 The lights at the east end of Island Park were my beacon for the first
half hour or more. During that time the current didn't seem too
significant. I guessed that I was even a little upstream from my
intended path. But by the time I had counted 1500 strokes, signifying
about an hour of swimming, I found myself more or less in the middle of
the river and having to swim more into the current to keep from losing
ground.
 Suddenly I became aware that the water was moving faster and a moment
later my left hand touched a rock. I pulled myself along the rock which,
as it turned out, extended perhaps as much as thirty metres across the
flow of water. It didn't break the surface anywhere, but in one place it
was shallow enough that I could stand up without fear of the current
knocking me over. I looked in every direction, first determining that I
was still a little upstream from my intended path. The moon was some
distance above the horizon by now, though it had a slightly orange cast
to it that made me uneasy. My unease intensified when I looked to the
west and saw that the band of dark cloud I'd seen earlier now blocked
most of the evening's last light.
 I scrambled back into the water and worked my way along the rock until
I was able to swim a bit. There must have been more rocks in the area
because I sensed myself being swept up the river for brief periods and
down at other times. But it wasn't too long before I found myself back
in a mild, steady current and noticed that the distance to shore was
looking increasingly manageable.
 Then I began noticing waves. In the space of less than a hundred
strokes, an east wind had raised a definite chop on the river. Though
the moon kept the waves from being as invisible as I'd feared, I had to
swim with extreme care to avoid taking a mouthful of water. After a few
minutes, during which I felt the beginnings of panic, I noticed an area
where the waves were breaking, just twenty or thirty metres upstream.
Guessing that the little breakers signified a shoal, I turned toward it,
stroking with all my might for a minute or so, then crawling along the
shallow bottom until I found a place suitable to stand.
 It took me a moment to find them, but Angèle's candles were quite
visible, twinkling just above the water. The spaces between them were
foreshortened by the angle from which I looing. They were about two
hundred metres upstream on the shore which was about a hundred metres
from where I stood. I jumped up and down and waved my arms while I
strained my eyes trying to pick out Angèle among the lights. Then a
sheet of lightning filled the sky. I wasn't quick enough to see Angèle,
but she must have seen me. The middle candle rose, described a tiny
circle three or four times, then retook its place among the others.
 The sight of lightning, distant though it was, put me in a state of
high alert. I scrambled back into the water and swam as hard as I could
toward the five candles. I was up to 300 strokes, a little over ten
minutes of swimming, when I started encountering the shallows that lay
off of our little piece of shore. I began crawling toward the candles,
big, white and solemn, looking quite grand in their glass chimneys. I
could not see Angèle, but her vest lay in front of the middle candle. It
was carefully folded into small square. I felt the sloping rock that
stretched from the shore down into the water and, knowing I was out of
the mud of the shallows I'd just crossed. I splashed around to make sure
I would be clean. Then I stood up an walked the remaining few metres to
shore.
 Pragmatic thoughts had filled my mind for the hour that I was
swimming   pragmatic thoughts and notions of survival   but as soon as I
stepped ashore, I was poised to worship and adore. I looked around, but
could not see Angèle. I knew that her invisibility was a light and
simple test of my faith, and I felt her certain presence in everything I
beheld. I knelt before the vest and pressed my lips to it. Then I
waited.
 I don't know how long I waited. I was in a state of repose, full of the
hope that something wonderful was imminent, but being in no particular
hurry that it should come to pass. In due course, I felt hands caressing
my buttocks, working their way toward each other. Fingertips explored
the region between, countless little touches like tiny butterflies. A
hand took my scrotum in its velvet grip, a finger traced back and forth
from there to my anus with increasing insistence. Then there was the
warmth of breath, the warm wetness of a tongue and the discomfort and
pleasure of fingers entering me, first one, then two. I did not move. I
held my lip  to the vest with renewed fervour. The fingers massaged most
deftly, finding points of pleasure that I had forgotten; then, when
pleasure was about to yield to discomfort, they withdrew.
 For a moment I seemed alone, then I became aware that Angèle was
standing astride my head. I looked up and saw the silhouette of her
thighs and the outline of her vulva. I was about to kiss her legs when
she broke the silence.
 "Ca va? Can you stand all right?" She stepped back a little to let me
rise, then looked me in the face. "I was worried, you know. You look
exhausted. Was it worth it?"
 I smiled. "That remains to be seen."
 Her features relaxed into a mischievous grin. "Okay, you've had your
swim. You want me to drive you home now?"
 "Whatever you say," I replied absently. I was looking over the river,
overwhelmed at last by the risk I had taken. "Still, if you have any
other ideas . . ."
 "Stand still, just like that," she said. She picked up one of the
candles and started to walk around me. "You are so beautiful," she
breathed. "And you have come across the great, black river to make love
to me. No, I'm not going to take you home so soon as this." She unfolded
her vest and used it to rub me dry. Then set about extinguishing four of
the candles, putting them together under a bush. Finally, she took up
the remaining one and turned up a path that led through some bushes to a
grassy area near the bicycle trail. I followed her to a spot that
offered some degree of seclusion, doubtless sufficient that late at
night.
 As I sat down on the grass, Angèle blew out the last candle then joined
me. She put an arm around me and licked my ear very lightly. "How are
you?" she whispered.
 "Tired," I admitted.
 "Close your eyes."
 I closed them and was immediately overcome by the sensation of my body
moving in a swimming rhythm. My thinking grew hazy and I began to
confuse the rhythm with that of lovemaking.
 "You should lie down," she interrupted my fancy. "Is it warm enough for
your?" Instead of answering, I just lay on my back and closed my eyes.
The swimming sensation came back instantly. Angèle began massaging me
from my chest down to my thighs, using the palms of her hands in long,
soothing strokes. Then she gave me a kiss on the forehead. "Sleep for a
while," she whispered. "I'll stay right by you."


 Some while later my sleep began to dissipate into erotic fancies, mixed
as ever with the reminiscence of the swim. As my consciousness took on a
bit of focus, I became aware of the warmth of Angèle's thighs near my
cheeks.  She was moving almost imperceptibly back and forth above me,
her pubic hair tickling my nose and tangling a little with my beard.
Presently I felt her labia,  dry and silky, caressing my lips. The
motion began settling toward something predictable and I let myself doze
for a moment. Her touch was so light and serene that I wished it to last
forever, and so it seemed that it might for a while. Then I sensed a
bead of moisture on her, and soon my lips were slick with her
lubrication. I offered her my tongue, but she lifted herself just enough
to indicate "not yet."
 She resumed her subtle movements for a few seconds, but then expanded
her scope to long, exploratory strokes, as though she were trying to
paint my face in some sort of ritual erotic pattern. I moved my head
from side to side to and she began pressing harder, her motion becoming
markedly more impulsive. Then, all at once, she moved her vulva back to
my mouth and this time accepted my searching tongue. The wetness of her
and of my mouth were one as she slowly increased the intensity of her
motion. I licked and sucked as best I could and, when it seemed just
right, I tasted as deeply of her as my tongue allowed. I could hear
little gasps and groans now and then, but I sensed a kind of impatient
restraint in her love making.
 It occurred to me that she was holding herself back to avoid hurting
me. I grasped her buttocks, caressed them warmly for a moment, then
worked a finger from each hand into her anus. She gasped as the second
went in, and vocalised through her teeth as I stretched her from within.
Then I pushed her hard onto my mouth and she let go rubbing herself with
evident abandon. My well-situated fingers enabled me to moderate her
motion up to a point, but it was still a rough ride from underneath.
More than once I felt my teeth digging into my lips and for a moment I
found the unmistakable tinge of blood among the tastes that came to my
tongue.
 She lifted herself off and crouched above me, straddling my shoulders.
Dark as it was, I could not see her well, but the outlines of her calves
and thighs were clear enough, and her vulva, though largely obscure, was
clearly transformed from the way I normally beheld it. In place of the
round, serene and gently closed labia that smote my dreams and fantasies
with their heart-stopping beauty, there was an overbearing font of
energy, a ragged, fiery, sweating gap, that demanded what it desired and
would not be denied. My eyes climbed as well as they could over Angèle's
belly between her breasts, up her throat and about her chin. Distant
lightning was teasing the sky, but at first I could only see her in
rough detail. She was tense, poised to act the instant the impulse would
come to her. Her face was a study in latency. Her breath was quick and
wary. I lifted my hands to her and she gripped them ferociously, forcing
them to rub her breasts with more pressure than I would have dared on my
own. She gritted her teeth and moaned jerkily through them.
 Then a longer, brighter stroke of lightning filled the sky and the view
of Angèle gave me a thrill of dread. Her mouth gaped with the same
unrestricted lust as her vulva and her eyes were wide and wild with the
dark light of a soul that has no memory of fear or of reason. Another
bolt of lightening, a quick-following clap of thunder and I broke her
grip to reach under her arms and pull her down on me.
 She landed hard, her belly falling on my face, knocking the wind out of
both of us just as it began to rain. But she was not swayed from her
course. She began sliding down my torso, pressing hard and stimulating
her genitals whenever she could. It wasn't until her thighs began
touching my penis that I realized what a monumental erection I had.(
Later, Angèle told me that it was the sight of my "sleeping giant" that
had inspired her lovemaking initiative.)
 In a moment I felt her vulva feeling my glans, positioning itself for
an optimal conjunction. Then, with two or three tight, smooth strokes,
she took me into her. She sat up and, holding me in as deep as possible,
moved ever so slightly in a tiny circle so that my penis felt all about
inside her. Then she began contracting and releasing her vaginal muscles
in an irregular rhythm that drew many a gasp and sigh from me. By and by
she added a little vertical movement and then a little more. She kept
her grip tight and her motion slow as my whole body became tense and
poised for the more vigorous thrusts I knew would follow.
 Quite suddenly, Angèle seemed overtaken by erotic momentum. Her grip
relaxed a little, but the scope of her thrusts increased so that she
seemed about to lose me each time she rose. Yet I understood that she
would not lose me. My sexual excitement increased rapidly too, and I
probably could have come with her, but I knew she would prefer that I
finish on top, so I held back. Faster and faster she went, letting out
cries with increasing abandon as the rain intensified. Lightning struck
somewhere over the river and a second later there was a bone-rattling
peal of thunder. Angèle seemed to be laughing in her lustful delirium;
at least that's how I read the contorted features of her face. But
suddenly she was off of me and on her back. She brought her knees up to
her shoulders and, while it was too dark for me to see clearly, I had
little trouble finding the part of her where I was most wanted.
 At first I went slowly, savouring the modified sensations I had from
being on top. But the downpour created a sense of urgency. I was
starting to feel a bit of chill, so I increased my speed. As my
excitement began approaching the brink, I seized Angèle's ankles and
brought the soles of her feet to my face so I could gnaw on them. She
answered by reaching around her thigh and gripping the flesh around my
nipples and tugging. We urged each other on, gnawing and yanking
progressively harder. I knew that I would be sore when were done, but I
was in no pain while my orgasm rushed upon me.
 A subtle shift of Angèle's pelvis, and I erupted into her. We each
relaxed our aggressive attentions to the other. She lowered her feet to
the ground and lay her arms asplay at her sides, while I slowed down my
movements. I relaxed and heaved a big sigh. Angèle tightened her vaginal
muscles to help me work out the last bit of semen. Then I stopped and
looked upon her as I waited for the moment to withdraw. She looked
utterly spent, though not serene in the way she often was at this stage.
A couple of quick flashes of lightning gave me a glimpse of her face.
Her eyes were still wild, but glazed over with exhaustion. She seemed
insensible to the rain that splashed her face and run down her cheeks.
Her hair was loosely tangled in the grass, some the ends floating in the
tiny puddles that were forming about her head. My erection was receding
and I was just about to ease my way out of her when Angèle extended her
tongue in invitation. I put my nose against hers and our tongues
caressed each other for a few long seconds.

 "We have to go," Angèle said at last. We disengaged and rose almost in
one move. She scooped up her vest, but didn't put it on. The rain may
have lightened a little, or perhaps it was just that we were no longer
lying on the ground that made it seem so. We held hands and walked
across the thirty or forty metres of grass and bushes that lay between
us and the westbound lane of the parkway. Headlights appeared from
around a bend in the distance, so we dashed across to the wooded median
before we could be seen. The pace seemed congenial and we trotted across
the eastbound lanes and the longer distance to the boundary of the park
behind Angèle's house.
 I was reluctant in my nakedness to try to climb the chain link fence
there, so we walked the block and a bit to a spot where the bicycle path
issued onto the street. The sidewalk was largely shaded from the street
lamps by stately maples, and the darkness of all the nearby windows
suggested that we were in little danger of discovery. A delicious
excitement came briefly upon me, only to disappear in my general
exhaustion.
 We went to her back yard where she had left some garden lamps burning.
I had started to feel at one with the rain, so I just stood on the
garden path as she went inside for towels. I leaned my head back and
closed my eyes, submitting to the water pelting my face until I heard
Angèle's voice coming from the porch.
 "You're so beautiful!" she said.
 I joined her on the porch where she wrapped me in one of her luxurious
towels and set to drying my head and feet with another. I wanted to rub
her down, but she stepped back so that the beam from one of the porch
lamps fell across her shoulder. She began drying herself in a kind of
dance, slow and sleepy, but beguiling all the same.
 "You know," I began, "a couple hours of sleep and . . . "
 She smiled. "Let's go upstairs then."
 The windows were open in her bedroom and a breeze bore the lovely scent
of midsummer greenery. It was too warm for covers, though, so we lay on
top of the bed, I on my back, Angèle on her side, her head on my
shoulder, a leg across my thighs and her hand cupped protectively around
my balls. I tried to think of some loving way to say good night, but
fell asleep before anything could come to me.

Copyright (c) 1998
Comments and correspondence are welcome and solicited.

--
Richard, who invites you to visit his music, outdoors and other WWW
sites at:
http://infoweb.magi.com/~richard/



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