Island Cultural Center

by Marilyn Foxworthy

  I said, “What’s wasted?”

  Brenda said, “Everything about her. She’s pretty, isn’t she? I wasn’t really looking. But she is, isn’t she? You checked her out, right?”

  I said, “I did not. And that’s the truth. I have the impression that she’s a little shorter than you are…or maybe it was quite a bit taller? I don’t know.”

  Brenda said, “No, it doesn't matter. She’s pretty. I’m sure of it. And she understands that great sex is important. But I’m sure she was pretty. Good.”

  I said, “Why good?”

  She said, “Because, if she is one of your soul-mates like I am, she better be pretty. It’s about the sex. You said that sex was a primary requirement. That will be easier if you find her attractive. It might be impossible if you don’t. Well, it would absolutely be impossible if you don’t find her attractive. She obviously finds you attractive. Or she wouldn’t have exposed herself. No, I know, I was the one who, ‘exposed myself’. I meant that she exposed herself emotionally. By being honest about what she knew. And in some ways, what she wanted.”

  I said, “Brenda, you seem excited about this.”

  She grinned and said, “You think so?”

  Then Brenda reached into her lap and squirmed in her chair for a second. When her hand came back from under the table, she pushed it to my lips and put two fingers in my mouth. They had a very intriguing taste that hadn’t been as pronounced the last time.

  She said, “Am I excited? What does my body say? Reach inside my blouse if you want to. Feel for yourself.”

  I smiled and said, “And you’d let me do that?”

  She said, “Yep. And I wouldn’t be humiliated or shamed or give a damn who saw it. I’m a woman in love. Let the Earth fear my femininity!”

  I laughed. I did not grab Brenda’s wonderful tits there in the restaurant. What I did do was marvel at the way that Brenda flipped back and forth between her fear and fearlessness. I liked the fearless part a lot. I’d love the fearful part, but not in the same way.

  After that, it was a matter of finishing our meal and paying the bill. The restaurant had an arrangement that allowed us to charge it to my room.

  On the way back, I said, “I thought it was funny when you told Lisa we were on our honeymoon. In a good way. I liked that you felt like you could do that, even if it might not be exactly accurate, depending on how you looked at.”

  She laughed and said, “I thought it was funny when you slid your hand into the crotch of the first swimsuit and told me to get one that you could pull to the side easier so that you could have sex with me in the ocean.”

  I said, “I thought it was funny when you made Lisa run from the room to change her underwear.”

  She said, “I thought it was funny when you took a half step toward me when you saw the fringe-y thing before you caught yourself and stopped.”

  I said, “I didn’t do that.”

  She said, “You certainly did. Lisa saw it too. We laughed about it. It made me feel pretty.”

  I said, “Brenda, I’m probably um, well I probably have a lot to learn about making love. I’ve done it, of course, but I feel like I could be a lot better at it if I had some coaching.”

  Brenda smiled and said, “Ronny, we still need to talk. Before we have sex. Before we get married, for sure. I haven’t told you my whole story. Um, and I don’t think we should go back to your room until I do. But we need somewhere private. But where we won’t undress each other just yet.”

  I said, “And there’s something that I have to say too. Brenda, I have plenty of money. I want you to tell me what you want and to expect that I’ll tell you if it won’t work. You don’t know my financial situation, so it would be pointless for you to try to make allowances for what you think I can do. Because you don’t know. If you want something, just say so. I’ll tell you if it’s a problem.”

  She said, “OK. Upgrade our room.”

  I said, “What?”

  She said, “Upgrade our room. They have better rooms, right? Get us a honeymoon suite. Can you do that?”

  I grinned and said, “OK. We’ll do it right now.”

  We walked through the pool area and up to the veranda and along the covered walkway to the lobby. I went to the desk and told them what I wanted. Arrangements were made and I was told to come back after four o’clock for new keys. I could take my things or leave them for a bellman and they would move them for me. I told them that I’d pack up and move my things. I didn’t have much. All Brenda had was a shopping bag with her new clothes and the dress she was wearing.

  Brenda was tickled by being able to register as Mr. And Mrs. Jackson and to show our driver’s licenses with those names on them, even though we weren’t married. In her mind, and in mine, having the same name already was close enough.

  From there, she insisted that we find a quiet place to talk about her past. We decided to walk down the beach and talk there. We’d sit on the sand if we wanted to stop walking.

  A few minutes later, we were far enough from anyone that might overhear us. It was early December, the low slow season, and during the week there weren’t many people around. Not like the busier months.

  We had taken off our shoes and I was carrying our bag of Brenda’s new clothes.

  Brenda said, “This might change things.”

  I said, “Do you truly think so?”

  She said, “Deep down, the way that you are teaching me to think, no. But on the surface, where I lived until today, yes. Up there, I’m doomed. We’ll see. Here goes.

  Roland, I got pregnant when I was 17. It was 1981. Things were different then, as you know. I had to leave high school. It was a small town in the central valley. Talk about being shamed by the community. My dad was a pastor. My parents loved me, but it nearly ruined their career. I didn’t have anywhere to go. I didn’t love the boy and he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby. It was a girl. She’s grown up and married to an army guy. They seem happy. It was a rough childhood though. Anyway, I had an older sister. She and her husband took me in. After Sadie was born, that’s her name, I worked at the diner and the hardware store and the fabric shop and places like that.

  A single mom doesn’t have a lot of boyfriends. I’ve seen my parents a few times over the years, but the relationship was strained and never really recovered. My relationship to the church never recovered at all. I’ve been single my whole life, except for the last year. A year ago, I met this guy. I wasn’t a single mom anymore and he was new in town. He was a cop. A policeman. You’d think that would be a mature stable guy. A cop. Nope. They have a hard life. They have a hard time trusting. He’d been married twice before and had a son that he’d never had any relationship with. The boy has reached out several times, but my ex wasn’t interested. It was like he didn’t consider the boy his son.

  I kept it together the best I could. I’d been lonely my whole life. But this wasn't’ really better. He was used to people lying to him constantly. To everyone being a perpetrator of some kind. And to getting his way through anger and the exercise of authority. I was relieved, devastated, but relieved, when he told me that he wanted out.”

  She took a breath and I said, “You have a nice butt.”

  She stopped in her tracks and looked at me.

  She said, “I have a nice butt?”

  I said, “And I’m so sorry for all that you had to go through. Is there any kind of sexual activity that you really don’t enjoy or think you never want to try?”

  She said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I said, “Sex. Making love. Monkey rumble rolling in the hay. What do you like and not like?”

  She laughed and said, “That’s all you care about right now?”

  I said, “No. I also care that you have a nice butt and that you had a hard life. Being a single mom is really hard. My dad left us when I was in the second grade. Mom worked three jobs at a time sometimes. I wish that you and your daughter hadn’t had to go through that.
”

  She smiled and said, “Really? You think so? When did you look at it?”

  I said, “Your nice butt? When you modeled the fringe-y thing. It’s beautiful. I just want to grab it and squeeze it. It’s so cute. Someday I’m going to do something and you’re going to tell me to kiss your ass and I’m going to do it with pleasure. My turn. I answered your question, now you answer mine.”

  We started walking again and Brenda said, “About sex? And what I like and don’t like?”

  I nodded and grinned.

  She said, “That’s a harder one than when you asked me my name and I didn’t know what to say. Ronny, that’s another area where I’m afraid that I am going to disappoint you. I’ve only had intercourse about ten times. Total. In my whole life. Once when I was in high school, when I was still more or less too young to really know what was going on, and then less than a dozen times during my disastrously short marriage. The ‘always be honest’ rule is still in force, right? OK, you want to know? I have never once enjoyed sex with a man. Except in my dreams. And oh Baby, I have dreams. Oh, and when I was naked in your room, and when you touched me in the bathing suit, and when we were at lunch. All that was great. But, um, unfulfilled.”

  I said, “Oh, what kind of dreams?”

  She looked bashful and looked down at the sand under our feet.

  I said, “Hey. Do you want to see it?”

  She said, “See what?”

  I said, “See me. I saw you. It wasn’t a good long look where I really got to appreciate it, but it would only be fair if you want, for you to get to see me.”

  She smiled and said, “Your penis? Sure. Um, I guess I would. I’m kind of afraid to.”

  I said, “Why?”

  She said, “Because. I don’t have a great relationship with the male penis and my body is responding to you in ways that it never has before and I’m afraid of what will happen. Will I react negatively because of my past and the feelings normally associated with penises? Or will I see it the way I want to? The way I imagine myself seeing it when I feel sexual?”

  I said, “Let’s find out.”

  She said, “But Ronny, what about what I told you? Do you really still want to go forward with this?”

  I said, “We should see what my body says.”

  She grinned and said, “That would be an honest way to find out. How do you suggest that we do that?”

  I said, “Well, it’s not like I’m going to flash you or ask you to put your hand down my pants, but if you told me to show you or demanded that I let you feel it so that you’d know what you are going to be looking at as my wife, I’d certainly do what you wanted.”

  She said, “I did joke about holding hands in your pocket didn’t I? Give me a minute to switch gears.”

  I said, “Sure. So, you want to wait to answer my question too? About what kind of dreams you have about sex?”

  She said, “For a minute, anyway.”

  We walked along, farther and farther from the hotel, and her mood got lighter. After several minutes, I slid my arm around her waist and then down her back and finally let my hand cup her butt. She wasn’t wearing underwear and the dress flowed really nicely into the crack of her ass so that I could feel the shape perfectly.

  Brenda said, “Oh hell. Yeah, let’s do it. Show me your goods.”

  I said innocently, “My what?”

  She said, “Your man bits. Come on, give me a look at them.”

  I said, “My man bits? Is that what you want me to call that pretty pussy between your legs? Your lady bits?”

  She sighed and said, “Ronny. Pussy?”

  I said, “Yes. It’s a beautiful word for a beautiful thing. One of the most beautiful things ever created. And I hate that the word has been corrupted as if it were something ugly. I won’t have it. Just like ‘that other word’. It’s a wonderful thing and not a swear word.”

  She took a deep breath and said, “OK. So, if I’m hearing what you are telling me correctly, show me your cock.”

  I gasped and said, “My cock? Right here? OK!”

  I turned our bodies so that my back was to any people that happened to be around, the nearest at least a hundred feet away, and Brenda in front of me.

  I said, “Go ahead. You have every right. Slide your hand up the leg of my shorts and see what’s there.”

  Brenda grinned wickedly and put her hand on my thigh and started moving upward. When she reached the leg of my shorts, she kept going until her hand was fully inside my pants. When she encountered my semi-erect manhood, she cocked her head to the side and encircled my shaft with her fingers.

  She whispered, “Roland, that’s nice. Wow, Baby likes it.”

  Without asking, she quickly undid my belt and the button at my waist and unzipped my shorts. She didn’t pull them down, but she did pull me out and gazed at me. And she started to stroke me. In response, I stiffened substantially until I was way more than a handful.

  I wasn’t especially large. Maybe a touch bigger than average, but probably not for a man my height. Even so, Brenda’s hands were small and as she grabbed me with both, one in front of the other, I was still just slightly longer than her two fists.

  Brenda moaned and started to pump me as if she was going to bring me to orgasm right here on the beach. I considered letting her. I decided against it.

  I said, “Brenda, not here. Not yet.”

  She looked at what she was doing and stammered, “Oh, I…oh, I um yeah. Here,” and she tucked me back into my pants and tried to zip me back up.

  I helped get me back into my shorts and arranged appropriately. It would be a few minutes at least before I was ready to appear in public again.

  Chapter 6 - Sensations

  We started walking again and I said, “So?”

  She said, “So? Oh, um, that was nice. Oh, you mean your question. Well, I liked that. Look, I don’t know. I want to try everything. I want to see what it’s like making love to a man that I am meant to be with. One that I’m attracted to. Won’t everything be great if I love you? Will I care at all what I do? Hey, are you still ready to be as honest with me as you were this morning, or are the stakes too high now? This morning, you didn’t care. You could say anything. But now, what if I get offended? Now, maybe you have something to lose.”

  I said, “You might have a point. We’ll see. Come on, let’s walk a bit more. But why are you asking if I can still be honest?”

  She said, “This morning I asked what was important to you. You said sex. So, what kind of sex?”

  I said, “OK. Fair enough. What kind of sex? Oral. Both directions. I plan to eat you often and expect the same from you.”

  She said, “I was about to blow you a minute ago, right here on the beach. I couldn’t help myself. Babe, I may not have ever had great sex, but I have dreamed about it. I’ve watched enough porn in lonely moments to have an idea about what turns me on. At least I thought I did.”

  I asked, “But it might be different than you thought?”

  She said, “Sweetie, I’ve been wet since we got to your room. And without panties, it’s doubly exciting. Everything about the way you treat me is a turn-on. You know that. OK. Oral. Check. Agreed. Yeah, I’ll go down on you at least as often as you want it. And hey, if you like how I taste, go for it. Damn it, except for your knuckle dragging across my clit under the swimsuit, you haven’t even touched me yet. What else?”

  I said, “What else will wait.”

  She said, “Ronny, you’re pretty big. Um, you seem to be just right. My ex-husband was a lot shorter than you are. I think I’m going to like it. I know I am.”

  I said, “Brenda, turn this way. Good. Your back is to the resort and we’re so far away that no one will notice anything. Hike up your dress in the front. Keep the back down.”

  Brenda got a strange, almost frightened look on her face but did exactly what I had told her to. I knew that she was thrilled, not scared. It often feels almost identical, but there is a difference.

/>   She stared at me with the front of her dress above her hips and said, “Are you going to touch my…my…pussy?”

  I stepped close and slid my hand between her legs and rubbed down her slit with the middle finger of my right hand. She was closed at first, but after one stoke, she opened up and I felt the slickness of her natural lubrication making it easy for me to massage her labia. As soon as she was slippery, I spread my fingers to each side and applied gentle pressure to the area along the side of her vulva where I knew the long legs of her clitoris extended like a wishbone from the pearl at the top. Brenda grunted and jerked, convulsing in pleasure as her legs nearly gave out. She jerked every few seconds as I stimulated her, rubbing up and down along the outside of her sex. As she came closer to climax, I focused my attention lower between her legs, closer to the bottom end of her slit. And seconds after that, I started rubbing fast and firmly and she reached her orgasm.

  It had taken about 90 seconds. Not the 20 to 40 minutes that some women need. I wondered if it was because it was our first time and her anticipation was so high, having been in a state of arousal for several reasons most of the day, or if she was just so responsive to me that we could expect this kind of ease of climax every time we would make love.

  I held her in my arms, keeping my hand between her thighs and brought her to a second orgasm half a minute after the first.