Begin Again

by Sarah Sanders

  “You are so fucking sexy,” she says nibbling my throat.

  “Less talking more taking,” I gasp.

  She goes down on her knees and under my dress, pushes the gusset of my panty aside and so takes me. I come squirting and before I am down from my orgasm, she is standing beside me, holding me close with her fingers moving fast and hard in me. My hips move in tandem though I can barely stand. I have to bite into her shoulder hard to keep from screaming. “Betha…” I moan.

  Suddenly she stills. Belatedly, I hear what she has already heard. There’s another horny couple somewhere in the darkness. Their moans and groans compete with mine.

  I peer around over Beth’s shoulders and catch sight of the randy couple going at it.

  Fuck! I feel my hips begin to move against Bethy’s thigh which is between my legs as those two women fuck.

  I am grinding and rubbing with purpose.

  The blond in the other couple comes once...I take Betha’s hand and place it on my breast. “Play rough, Betha,” I speak directly into her ear.

  I am riveted to the other couple who show no signs of stopping anytime soon…and there comes her second orgasm…I can actually she her shuddering…that is twice…aaand…shit! thrice!

  “Enough Joya,” I hear Tay’s exhausted voice as she rests her head on Joy’s shoulder, “Any more and you’ll have to pour me into a champagne flute and carry me back like that…I’ll just dissolve now.”

  “Not enough yet,” Joy mumbles.

  “Mmmmmm, Joy-Toy…you are on fire tonight!” I hear Tay kiss Joy. “But we got to be social for a few more hours…and you, tiger, are so not sleeping tonight,” I see Tay slowly pull out Joy’s hand from inside her. Joy’s fingers leave Tay with an audible, wet squelching sound.

  You can read about Taylor and Joy in Twice as Nice.

  I wait till they move away and then tell Betha softly, “You are also so not sleeping tonight.”

  “Princess, you are a perv,” Beth says with amused affection. Though there is amusement in her tone and words, the look she is giving me is heated. Blazing. Electric.

  Why did no one ever tell me what a liberating feeling it is to be completely accepted even when you’re straying away from the acceptable…being just a tad deviant…and still are loved absolutely? Betha gives me that unconditional love which gives me the freedom to explore and indulge in the unexpected darker, dirtier, edgier, steamier sides of me which I had never known existed.

  (Random fleeting thought: Maybe I should ask Bethy to find a way to capture the electricity between us and turn it into usable energy. I think between us, Radhika and Reeth, and Tay and Joy we would have enough to give electricity to at least one large-sized country. Wow! I have been completely Bethany-ised into thinking abstract, absurd sci-fi ideas. Maybe one day I’ll stumble upon something that will change the universe.)

  “Yes, and this perv is totally going to be sitting on your face in the next twenty minutes. Get me out of here, Bethy…take me back and then,” I move dangerously close to her ear, “take me…ravage me…do filthy, filthy things to me,” I am practically purring.

  ******

  Betha is lying naked on top of me pumping into me. Her thumb is flicking my clit with every stroke. My breast is in her mouth and she is sucking it. Her other hand is scratching gently along my side. I am bucking so bad that it must be like riding the rodeo for Betha. My sighs, moans and screams are an endless background score of obscene pornographic sounds to our lovemaking. I am on the brink of oblivion. Sex between us is still delightfully lewd, filthy and dirty.

  It is almost eleven months since Grand Canyon. We are approaching our second anniversary. Two years already. Wow! The newness and excitement haven’t worn off. My heart still beats faster at the thought of her. She still woos me every single day. It is perfect. Perfection doesn’t mean that things remain the same…or are unchanging. It means that there are changes and surprises everyday but it is all just wonderful.

  We fight. Of course, we do. She fights with silences. And then I have to tease her, coquette her, prod her, sex her into talking about what is bothering her. When she speaks about it finally, she is reasonable and sticks to the issue never making it a personality-based fight. No, she loves me exactly like I am but may have specific issues that hurt. She never goes into ‘you always…’ or ‘you never…’. She expresses. She listens. And she moves on.

  I am more volatile. I have PMS that turns me into a dark cloud of brooding and snapping. I flare in unreasonable anger, often without knowing the cause. She knows touch is the solution for me. She holds me. Hugs me. Pampers me with soothing words. Bathes me in all those extravagant salts and oils. Massages me till I become a mewling ball of apology and am able to actually articulate the issue. Once she helps me reach the core issue, we are able to talk about it and address it. After we have talked, reached solutions, exchanged apologies and promises, she takes me to bed totally fries every brain cell I have.

  But in the present, my body is reaching a crescendo that is soon going to snap the equator with a reverberating twang. Though my eyes are closed, I know she is looking at me as I unravel under her fingers and am coming undone at the speed of light. My hands grab the pillow on the sides of my head and with a loud wordless scream I tumble over into a heaven of bright white light. I am leaking all over her fingers. I lie shaking. My skin is covered with goosebumps. Our sweat slicked bodies are fused together. There is no saying where one of us ends and where the other begins. I am hot and cold at the same time.

  She gentles her movement inside me and runs her thumb around my clit in soothing circles bringing me down gently.

  The white light behind my eyes transforms into a starburst of colours and suddenly I can see a wee little thing running towards me, arms outstretched, giggling with unbridled joy.

  A gossamer cloak of comfort, contentment and completeness falls over me settling me into a place of extreme peace.

  I am startled by this whole thing but this feeling of peace is too amazing to let go.

  If I didn’t know that it was biologically impossible, I could swear that Betha has just impregnated me.

  Still in the glow of that vision, I open my legs a little wider and fold my knees, resting my feet flat on the bed, readying myself for our post-coital ritual.

  Betha moves down. I watch her, marvelling, as always, her incomparable bliss at lapping up my juices and cream.

  She luxuriously indulges in all her senses in this act. She gazes at me like my pussy is something splendid…something spectacular…something awe-inspiring. Then she bends down and breathes in my smell deeply before nuzzling her nose and face into me. Then she starts licking me, humming against my cunt…almost purring with pleasure. My hands are in her hair and every once in a while my hips involuntarily jerk up and undulate in response to the aftershocks still running through me and the tiny bolts of lightning passing into my groin from her tongue.

  After she has licked me to her heart’s content, she comes back beside me, slides her arm under my neck so that I can cuddle into her and her other hand slips between my legs to cup my pussy possessively.

  Today, as I lie with her arms around me, the only thing I can really see is that little girl running towards me. And the feeling that flew into me at her sight.

  It is a precious moment that I hold close to my heart jealously guarding the emotion.

  ******

  Our anniversary…of our first kiss…of our first time…falls mid-week this year. Bethy gifts me a Lexus (Holy hell!). It is the most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen. A two-seater sports car…my favourite kind.

  I gift her a modest two-bedroom brownstone in Upper East Side, New York, giving her a tiny piece of her favourite city in the world.

  On Saturday we leave home at an ungodly hour to drive five hours to the Niagara Falls.

  Bethy is the destination planner for our anniversaries and I am the designated driver. Though I’m not (vehemently and firmly: not) a morning pe
rson, I am raring to go today because I can hardly wait to put my Lexus through its paces.

  The mighty falls are considered the eighth wonder of the world. They sit on a unique crossroad of being semi a natural wonder and semi man-made. The natural part of the wonder is work of thousands of years by Nature. Ice sheets worked for a gazillion years advancing and retreating to form the five Great Lakes. An upstart in the form of the Niagara River connected Lake Ontario and Lake Eire. In fact, supposedly, four out of the five Great Lakes (Huron, Eire, Superior and Michigan) drain into the Niagara River and so, as a bonus, Nature redrew the land to create the Falls and then allow the water to flow onward into Lake Ontario. Cool, right?

  The man-made part comes from the fact that the flow of the water is regulated to control erosion. There are some vague rumours that the Horseshoe shape of the biggest of the three falls was also kind of enhanced by human intervention.

  But none of this matters. The sheer splendour of the Falls makes everything else about it pale into background beige.

  Bethy tells me that to her I am a Wonder in her life which is why she chooses to spend each anniversary at one of the world’s wonders.

  She bashfully divulges that when she sees my alongside the wonder she is actually moved by the sight but is also thumbing her nose at it because I am so much more.

  Really??…I mean…really??? What and how do you respond to someone who confides such a thing to you? You are humbled by their love. You are scared by the expanse and depth of their feeling. And mostly, you are soaring.

  I know I have the biggest shit-eating grin on my face.

  It will probably stay forever.

  We stay in Ontario in a hotel where we have a suite overlooking the Falls. We do every possible thing at the Falls.

  We take the boat…The Maid of the Mist. When the huge back spray of the gigantic water flow into the gorge drenches us we laugh delightedly. When we see rainbows dancing in the water we are mesmerised.

  When we stop in front of the Falls, we are simply overwhelmed.

  We are right at the front of the boat. Betha is standing behind me, holding the bar on both sides of me enclosing me in warmth and safety. I lean back into her and she presses a little closer as we share the moment. The wonder.

  I simply stare bereft of thought. It is a spectacle beyond feelings. Beyond words.

  When we finally break out of the thrall, she whispers to me, “You’re way, way more than that.”

  I try to swallow through the huge lump in my throat that is choking me and remind myself…breathe.

  We walk along hiking paths and we walk behind the Falls. When we get back, we sink into the giant tub for a long soak.

  Bethy makes the anniversary even more happy in the tub. And in the shower. Against the huge plate glass window with the Falls in the background. And then in the king sized bed. For a long, long time.

  Later at night we drink in the lighting of the Falls from our room and then go to the casino and gamble and dance until wee hours. The next day, we mostly stay in bed…snuggling, cuddling, making out and talking until it is time to get into my brand new blue power wheels and go back.

  The next weekend, it is Bethy’s turn to indulge in her gift and we are in New York. Since we now have a home there, we pace ourselves to experience the city slowly. There is no rush to see everything, be everywhere and do everything.

  This weekend we only do the Met and Central Park. Each one takes a whole day and deserves much more than a day.

  We continue our ‘happy’ anniversary on every single surface of the house. We ensure that no part of the house feels neglected or overlooked. We do not discriminate, you see. Yeah, well…what do I say…we really, really, really enjoy each other.

  ******

  It is a Saturday afternoon a few weeks later. After a long, lazy, sensual morning in bed, we’ve just finished a scrumptious brunch.

  Bethy has retained Anita and Ravi but has told Radhika that she would like to pay their salaries herself. Radhika didn’t push on that but has asked Betha to first inform her if she ever decides to let them go. Neither Betha nor I have any intentions of letting them go.

  However, it is confirmed – Radhika is the most caring and nurturing human being on this planet.

  Having Anita around means that every meal is an overindulgence of pampering our taste buds. However, she makes these healthy meals so we are not bloating into becoming blimps.

  We swim and jog together at least twice a week. Bethy trains about thrice a week and I do yoga. We have a treadmill and a spinning cycle at home, so we spend about an hour each day on those too.

  I think we have had a great effect on one another on the exercise front (besides many other fronts), and right now we are both extremely fit.

  Betha is sitting with her back against the headboard and I am nestled between her legs leaning back into her. She has just finished her book and is marinating. She does that. After finishing whatever she was reading, she mulls over it. It is like she is thinking of the concepts in it, breaking them apart and rebuilding them into something new and useful. These ruminating silences of hers after finishing her book are fascinating.

  Predictably, one of Betha’s hands is between my legs. Sometimes I believe that if my cunt is not wearing Bethy’s hand for at least five to six hours a day, the world will end. There will be apocalypse. Tsunamis, volcanic eruptions and earthquakes will start. The only way to stop them will be for her hand to cover my cunt. She will then have to knead me and rub me to stop further explosions. Then, when she opens my swollen lips and starts playing with my engorged clit, reversals with start. Finally when she deepens the contact in my wet pussy and fills my hungry hole, the world will return to normal. Sex having superpowers and sci-fi…I think I have found my personal niche for raunchy fantasies.

  I am comfortably ensconced in her and reading my book. While Betha likes her teen/YA sci-fi fantasies, my taste is more of classics, non-fiction and philosophy. I also enjoy re-reading books. Right now I am crying with overflowing sentimentality with Meg and Jo because Beth’s fever has just broken and Marmee is on her way home.

  Because of my tears, the words have blurred and I am really only looking at the open pages with all sorts of emotions running amok in me.

  Maybe the book is really sentimental, but this whole excessive sentimentality is a new thing in me, which has come into me post that moment when I had the revelatory vision of the baby girl.

  Maybe my biological clock is telling me something.

  Or maybe it is the peace and stability that our relationship has given me that is making me want to take the next step.

  I find myself pulling out that emotion brought on by the gossamer cloak of comfort, contentment and completeness falling over me settling me into a place of extreme peace often and reliving it.

  I dream about babies.

  I sometimes have pseudo-pregnancy symptoms.

  I have not yet been able to speak about all this to Betha, but I soon will. I’m not so sure how she feels about kids and whether she wants kids at all.

  I make gentle, subtle parries at trying to find out but so far I haven’t got any definite answer one way or another.

  It is important to me that both parents want children equally. Very important. The child deserves that.

  My father was a selfish, self-centred human being to whom no one mattered, except for himself. He never really became a father. He was never there for me and my brother in any way.

  In fact, he only took and took and took from us. The taking might have been emotionally and time-wise but it was still taking. It was still only draining a child instead of filling them. And there was zero giving from him. No emotion, affection, love, quality time…nada…zilch.

  He was like that with my mom too which is why she sought emotional connect and comfort from her first born, my brother.

  That in turn led to such a close relationship between them that they became one tightly-knit, closed unit that had no place for a
nother person…me.

  Mom became and remained obsessed with my brother and I grew up in an emotional wasteland.

  With this background and this experience, you can understand how important it is for me that my partner is as invested in creating a family as I am. We both need to be committed to each other and to the child’s happiness.

  I would never wish the desolation I felt in my growing years on any other human being…much less, my child.

  Thanks to the neglect and rejection from my mom, before Betha, I never felt I belonged anywhere or with anyone. I could never form groups. I remained awkward in social gatherings most of my life. Even today, I connect with people one-on-one better than in groups.

  I have learnt and developed my own coping mechanisms with groups, but my preference remains meeting ideally one, maybe two or a maximum of three people at a time.