Another Story about My Gwendolyn

There was still snow in the hollows and under the pines that clung to the sides of the mountain and the roadside viewing areas were chained and closed. My old Caddy was sure footed though, and we descended into the village where one rainswept night a few years back, I'd gone and rescued a young damsel in distress.
The Denny's was shining in the morning sun, the same one where I'd found Gwendolyn.
I was meeting a builder who'd bought land within the town limits and wanted to develop it. I was familiar with the ordinances and the board, having served a stint as legal counsel for planning and zoning.
As I was taking a booth and ordering coffee, my phone rang. I wrestled it out of my pocket. Ruben, (my builder) was running late. The Georgia Power folks were blocking his road. A pole had fallen over the highway and they were sawing it apart. Give it an hour or so, could I wait?
The coffee came and I gazed out at the parking lot. A few people were out, all bundled up against the wind and traffic was steady. There was some clatter in the back, someone emptying the Hobart and two couples laughed uproariously three booths down.
I paid no mind. The doors to the present were closing, beckoning the past in its place. I creamed the coffee, clouds swirling in restaurant china, my fingers automatic but my mind in absentia.
****
Her hair was wet, still wet enough that droplets formed and ran down her forehead. Her skin was wan, especially under the fluorescence light, but I reckoned, also from her perceived lack of options. Her green eyes were hooded from exhaustion and betrayal. She'd told her story to me in a near monotone, embarrassed, confessional. I remember her twirling her fork, pushing dribs and drabs around her plate, her tea cold, untouched.
After being abandoned by her employer, feeling a fool, who was she to trust? Gwendolyn had 37 cents in the bottom of her little purse. She thought she'd cover the tip, at least try, spreading them out by her cup. And on the way home, to my home, the sound of the tires sussing on wet pavement and the gentle whirr of the heater entranced her slumber, her head lolling against my shoulder.
Maybe everyone encounters epochal moments in their life. For me, the run up and the actual events were more of a surprise than momentous. Then later, when in contemplative introspection, a truth stands out. The hardest thing is keeping that remembrance pure and unshaded from what you wished versus the unvarnished fact.
The corners of my window were fogged, but I could see a pair of crows picking at a half eaten schooner of fries, about the time my breakfast arrived.
For a moment, I had a foot in each world. I was reluctant to desert my ruminations, the first time meeting Gwen,or maybe laughing with our friends as we sat eating barbeque, or the surprise in the fitting room at the second hand store. Then, a vision of her fly casting in a clear stream, the very picture of health and vibrancy.
Shall I watch crows or turn on my personal projector? Easy choice, given the givens.
****Another story about Gwendolyn****
We'd returned from Tallulah Falls after hearing some bluegrass music in a park on a warm spring Saturday night. The weather had been beautiful all day as we hiked the gorge, deer watching us from the underbrush. Later, we ate hotdogs and sipped sweet tea as we sat on folding chairs, hearing old standards delivered from the hearts of Appalachian souls.
Last light found us pulling up my cedar lined drive. Gwen drove us home, safe and sound. The breeze was luffing and off across the way, a bullfrog moaned cadence with the crickets. Gwen's eyes shone in the dome light.
She sighed. "I've just had a perfect day, you. How bow chew?"
I shrugged, "Two can chew, you!"
Gwen, (mock haughty) folded her arms. "Methinks you're prepositioning me. I can tell, you know."
Me. "Propositioning. We could just sit in the car tonight if you want or..."
Cat climbed in through my open door, stalking over my lap to butt her head on Gwen's hand.
Gwen, to Cat's purring, "Yes, we've been bad, haven't we, staying gone all day, no one to bother, no food, it's just AWFUL, hmm?"
As Cat made a nest in the girl's lap, I eased out, my back reminding me that canyon crawls are foolhardy for older gents. Maybe a touch of Glenlivet to lessen the aches...
"Hold up there, homes. Are you leaving a barefoot girl to the mercies of the WILD out here?"
I grinned. "Cat's fairly domestic. I'd never call her wild. Where are your shoes? You know it's a crime to drive barefooted."
"Is not. Mebbe YOU shouldn't drive footless, but my left shoe is scrunched under the seat and I'm with Cat."
I tried very hard to adopt a sober mien. "That would be a medical first. Unlock your door, I'll come around."
****
Gwen went batıkent escort inside, leaving me to unload while she enacted Cat abatement via Fancy Feast. I trudged in about the time I heard her close the bathroom door and start the shower. I espied my elixir in the pantry and poured liberally and maybe one cube. I stepped back on the porch with its cricket chorus while in the distance, a semi worked its way up the grade. Higher now than earlier, a brilliant half moon seemed to ride a row of lavender cirrus, while an owl hooted deep in the forest.
I like a gentle ending to a day, the Earth's subtle reassurance that as the mountains were bathed in moonglow, our problems are petty, our loves are real. A person was singing, her contralto soft and smooth, an earthbound Venus beckoning.I left my empty tumbler to the dark, my back better, my day's sojourn complete.
****
The tiles in the bathroom gleamed and the mirrors were fogged, save where Gwendolyn's face peered back. She focused on her chin as she plucked at it with my old tweezers.
"There! Got it! Chin hairs, wish I had a dozen." The singing resumed in sotto voce as the cooler air swirled in from the door ajar. Cat wandered in, reeking of tuna and rubbed up against Gwen's legs.
"I feel some fur between my legs," said she, glancing down before meeting my gaze.
I glanced down too. "I see red fur down there."
"No, further down! Now there's a...tail between my knees. Do you see it?"
I'd lost interest in the gambit and Cat's antics. The skin of a recent teen, aglow from bathing, peaches and alabaster head to toe filled my view, her birthday suit drawing my utter admiration. I sidled in behind, hands to her small waist and smiled into the clearing mirror.
"I still see just the red fur," I offered.
Her arms rose to my neck, soft round orbs full, up and high, pink nipples perky, begging my touch.
It was easy to comply.
My hands slid north over the unblemished silkiness of my little vixen.
She giggled. "You're being incorrigated again."
I kissed the top of her damp head. "Incorrigible."
Gwen smiled at me so sweetly as I cupped her fruits, soft girlhood in my hands. "Methinks you've had a bracer whilst I bathed."
"Single malt for the lower back, Miss Ma'am."
"My, but aren't we glib, kind sir!" She undulated gently against my burgeoning maleness. "And frisky too, huh?"
I grinned. "It's more complimentary than anything else at this point. I'm whipped and slightly overserved."
She giggled, her nose wrinkling. A maiden's soft hand stole behind her, tugging down my zipper. "There's always hope, Bunkie." A soft sigh as she freed me. "Always hope."
My blood surged, her touch so provoking...as always. She trailed her fingers from base to tip, squeezing there, a little pinch making my gasp as she watched me in the mirror.
A car went up the street briefly illuminating the bedroom beyond in rapid strips, a mobile frieze vanishing on the ceiling.
Her hand withdrew, eyes dancing. "You might oughta close the curtains, you."
****
Cat decided I needed to get up at first light. She did this by sticking her nose in my ear and purring. It would be unsettling if she hadn't done this to me whenever I forget to close the hall door. The curtains were pulled to and I heard coffee burbling in the kitchen. A board creaked in the hallway.
"Bunkie? Bunkie? You awake.?"
"No. I'm still sleeping."
"Are not. I sent in Cat to get you. I'll make you biscuits if you don't dawdle around."
"Ok. Will you remove this animal from my head please?"
Gwen came around, eyes fresh and gleaming in the morning light. She scooped up Cat. "By the way, I used your toothbrush by accident. I set you out a new one." (Big smile) It's pink, if that's Ok."
There was a pair of panties in the bed, down by my toes. I drew them up and handed them out. "I believe these might be yours?"
"Aha!" She snatched them with her free hand. "I couldn't find them. They disappeared last night somehow."
"Had you been wearing them?"
"Mmm, well...yes."
"And did something happen that caused their disappearance?"
Gwen set the cat down. "Well yes, I think there was. I was nearly asleep when a man that looked much like you came in and pushed them down, exposing me." She rolled her eyes. "I have NO idea why he did that!"
My memories were much the same. Coffee steamed on the counter as I shaved, hearing pans clanging in the kitchen.
I'd pull the sheers closed, but moonlight dimly illuminated the form snoring lightly in my bed. I joined her, my legs scissoring under the bedclothes. Her breathing changed for a moment before returning to her slumbers as I watched the ceiling fan defining shadows in the night. My hand beşevler escort found her rump, as she slept high in the bed, on her side facing away.
The clock in the hallway struck the hour, a late hour, reminding me of my weariness. I replayed our scene in the bathroom and the same sudden want overtook me. After freeing me, she'd teased me on, urging and measuring my ascending need, gazing in the mirror as I gasped and jerked at her deft touch.
Now, my own hand found myself hard and ready. Carefully, I turned to my side, facing her back. Under the covers, my questing hands found her panty clad bottom, roundness below the dimples, firmness in my fingers. My breathing came harder and my need to touch and explore outpaced my rectitude. Almost in betrayal, my fingers caressed and adored, tracing her shapes through the cotton and adoring her girlish ass.
My manhood stuck out straight from me, mere inches from my goal as I addressed my new task, gently pushing the waistband down just a little, then more. I felt the heat from the freshly liberated skin, while above, Gwen slept soundly on. Pushing more firmly, most of her panty was to her thigh, save that between the bed and she.
I spread my hand across the delightful swell of her youthful butt and my middle finger curved in, seeking her biscuit, the furriness obscuring the entrance.
My excitement was compounded by my own illicitness, caressing without consent, my stealthy invasion of my slumbering miss. Emboldened in my guilt, I pressed on, gently parting her lips, the waistband against the back of my hand. I began rubbing just so lightly, around, around. Her fur no longer shielded my intent and as skin touched skin directly at last, she shifted, panties now loose on her thighs. I stopped my ruse to push them further away, past her knees. She breathed in deeply, then softly, "Hey cowboy?"
Gwen reached back sleepily to find my hardness as she had earlier. She pulled on it, jacking me, thrilling my nerve endings (!!!) before patting me and sighing. My fingers returned, finding her lips swollen, interested, her center moistening. Her slickness grew. It was a wet welcome and I scooted closer, my sex to hers, at the gates.
She knew of my intent, had to know. A wiggle and heat on my head. I pressed, she didn't recede and so began my journey to her womb, cautiously, slowly and now half in. I held her hips as I impaled her more deeply, now hearing her gasp. The odor of her arousal escaped the blankets, exciting my delirium and now she pushed back yet again, accepting most of me so deeply. I pulled back inches, then pushed in completely.
"Oh." Gwen took a deep breath. "You've taken all of me. All of me..." She trailed off. For a moment, my deeds paused in the reflection of the flickering fan blades above and outside, the deep night breezes whispered.
Inside, her deeds began with but the slightest move, a flick of her hips beckoning my beginning. Her velvet glove sought to restrain my withdrawal, only to pull me in anew. Kicking off the vestiges of her undergarment, her legs opened more, giving every access to her secrets.
I knew my excitement would overrun my resolve, the urgency becoming more paramount with each pass! No one wants heaven to end once they find it, may it always be now and forever.
Gwen reached down and pulled her pudenda tight while shoving her soft bottom harder and harder against my thrusts. Between the tightness of her womb and soft ass rubbing against my belly, it was a forgone conclusion. I reached up, holding her soft orbs, the nipples taught under my thumbs and forefingers.
She stopped moving, patting my hands away. She'd foretold my pending arrival, leaving my heart thundering and my blood pounding in my veins. She pushed me onto my back and climbed above, lathing her spread lips against my shaft. She too was in need. I could see it now and feel how she trembled while drawing out this exquisite torture.
She traced my mouth, her fingers basted in her own juices, pressing them into my mouth, before leaning in and sucking my tongue to hers. She lowered then. Just enough to graze our parts. Just enough to fan the flames. Forward and back, her hips coaxing my moans of exasperation, until she jerked, (sensitive!) laughing, looking down at our sexes. It was then that Gwen reached down and guided me back in and began the houri's dance of completion, roughly rubbing her muff to my mons as her hips rode me in circles, then fore and back. We held hands as she rode, her tits moving in tempo, provocative in the dimness, our breath faster and our cries no longer muted. It was her sex sounds that completed my mind's abandonment of any remaining discipline. There were the squishy sounds of her wet pussy against me and the little yelps and jerks betraying her move to büyükesat escort the clouds.
I could no longer fight my body's imminent betrayal. I grabbed her hips, remorseful for it to end, fucking her from below and slamming upwards as I spurted deeply, again and again. My mind receded into the stars as the intensity of my endeavor faded and I began to hear night sounds once again.
Gwendolyn lay above, panting on my shoulder, breasts heaving. I was still to the hilt and still yet hard enough to feel the last vestiges of her orgasm fading over her own horizon. She left me, falling off to the side. She squeezed my hand and slept.
****
The waitress was pouring a topper on my cold coffee and my eggs were still on the plate, looking worse for the wear. Where had I gone? I grimaced at the world pouring back into my consciousness, bright light intruding into my twilight of recollection. I gestured for her to take my plate and stirred my coffee anew as fat wet flakes of snow began gliding down, bringing grey and masking the mountains. Reuben, (my builder) pulled into the lot outside, wipers and headlights on. He emerged wearing a nice palomino Stetson, briefcase in hand.
There are other memories, other stories to tell. I've been a lucky man, so very lucky. And even though this day the wind was blowing with the temperature beginning to plummet, there was a warm spot inside me that could never be chilled. There was always and always will be Gwendolyn.
The wind had picked up, more so in the village, and fallen leaves raced across the parking lot. A lone hawk circled at a long squint's distance and I could hear the screen door banging at the American Legion's entrance. The church bell tolled as it had since the days of John Wesley, announcing noon.
A woman was walking up alongside the building wearing a well filled out yellow blouse, gray slacks, sensible shoes with her arms out of a thin cashmere sweater on her shoulders. Luxuriant auburn hair cascaded below her shoulders. Big sunglasses concealed her eyes but I knew them to be brown as a Hershey's kiss and the smile starting on her face was just for me.
"Hey Mister," Katie Ann's perfect pearlies sparkled, " You wanna buy a girl some lunch?"
Inside, it was noisy, with plates banging back in the Hobart and the hubbub of a hundred conversations over a linoleum floor adding to the din. We took our trays and loaded up, sweet tea at the end of the line beckoning, making me thirsty. A young attorney sat with us along with Janie, the court reporter. Sheriff Hatch waved from across the room. Between bites, we learned that Gerald Foster, Jr, (just Jerry) the attorney, was fresh out of UGA and would be interviewing in the county DA's office that afternoon.
That interested me. Were he to be hired, I might face off against him doing my county work. He seemed like the usual young eagle that the University of Georgia unfailingly produced, smart, reserved and self assured. Janie seemed smitten and hung on his every word. Katie and I shared a secret smile.
****
Maria and her daughter, (who actually did the laundry) were chattering down in the laundry room. Maria had made us breakfast burritos while making a show of eyeing the clock, as in how late we were to rise. My father would have made a show of booting her illegal alien ass back to Juarez- but I just smiled, as did Emma, who brought me my phone.
"You're popular today bro. Fucker's been dinging all morning. You in the high life?"
I thumbed through, still chewing. Lotsa corporate shit, two things salient. A guy I knew in Carmel wanted to know if I still wanted to buy his Gretsch guitar. It was an old Country Gentleman edition. I had a hankering...wait a minute, here was one from Jodi. First chapter readers remember my meeting her, a suspected Brit chick, smarter than cute, me intrigued, she citing parallel pasts with our dads.
I called the guy first, then Jodi.
I was leaning on the rail, pool behind me, watching a bobcat trotting down a trail a hundred yards off when she answered.
"Hey Trav. Been busy?"
That voice, dear God. I can't find my way home. "Late night, late today. Just had breakfast. You good?"
"Yeah." Quieter. "Yeah. (sigh) Got in yesterday. Didn't charge the car so I stayed in, thought of you. How've you been?"
"Same old." The bobcat had gone into a crouch. I had an inspiration, amazed at my own brain matter. "I'm going to look at a guitar. For me."
"Surely, your pops doesn't already have one in the rack?"
"Does yours?" Again, who the hell is she? Shot in the dark.
"Depends what it is."
The bobcat sprung, catching something. Instant dust cloud. So I bet our dads worked together, just as I thought..."It's in Carmel, wanna ride with? My truck still uses gas..."
A throaty laugh. Then softly said, "Silly bloke, I drive what they give me." A pause. In the old days, the line woulda hummed. "When are you going?"
"Today. Second pair of eyes would be..."
"Stop it. I haven't a clue, you see, other than sound. What's he running it through?"
Technica devolved, once again I was struck by her assuredness in things electric. But, she was hooked.