13. Maria #2
There, directly ahead of us, is the most darling little waterfall imaginable.
Not massive or intimidating. Just… beautiful.
The water spouts from the rockface above, projecting about forty or so feet above us from a natural escarpment.
It tumbles down in a single, lazy arc, to crash noisily and incessantly into an almost perfectly round, shallow, turquoise-blue pool that I guess must have been carved out of the rock by the water itself over the years.
Ferns grow around the edges of the pool, and butterflies and birds all flutter around, dipping into the shallow little puddles that lie all around, and splashing their wings, turning waterdrops into diamonds as they spatter through the air.
Above it all… a rainbow—violet, blue, green, yellow, orange and red—arcing over our heads through the mist that swells around and above the little fall, like a theatrical backdrop for some nature-based production or other.
“Oh Regan… it’s… wonderful!” I whisper, not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.
We stand there a little while, taking in the enchantment of the secret little place. Our place, hidden so well from the rest of the world. It’s obvious that few visitors come here. There are no signs of anyone at all.
“Come on.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s an easy climb to the pool.
Indeed, it’s more of a clamber than a full-on climb.
Hands are useful at times, necessary at others, but mostly just needed for balance, gripping a branch or holding onto a rock, as we pick our way upwards towards the unceasing stream of water as it drops down the cliff side and smashes into the little pool below.
Within a very few minutes we are there, the heat and humidity combining to make me glow with the effort of our efforts to get here.
“Phew.” I wipe my brow, my hand coming away soaked with the sweat from my climb.
We stand together, at the edge of the pool, listening to the thunder of the water, watching the darting birds, feeling the sunshine on our skin. Then he turns to me, that roguish grin back on his face.
“Let’s go in.”
“What?”
“I said, ‘let’s go in’,” he repeats. “There’s no one around to see us. And I’m hot…
With that, he pulls off his T-shirt in one smooth flow, then bends to untie his boots. I stand there’ gawping at him, totally wrong-footed by this new and unexpected development. He pauses, looking up at me.
“Well?” he says. “What’s the problem? Shy?”
I nod, not really knowing quite how I feel.
“Alright. I’ll get in first then I’ll close my eyes while you undress. Then, when you’re in too, you can let me know. Okay?”
And without waiting to hear my answer, he kicks off his boots, slips off socks, shorts and boxers, and with a loud whoop, plunges into the water.
“Okay, my eyes are closed.” Not only are his eyes closed, but his back is turned. And honestly, I am very hot, and the water looks wonderfully cool and refreshing….
Oh, what the hell… what’s the worst that can happen?
And with that I pull off my T-shirt and start fumbling for my bra strap. A minute or two later, I am easing myself into the cool, clear water, unintentionally letting out a little squeak as I experience the delightful coldness against my skin.
“Can I take it you’re in?”
“Yes, I’m in.”
“Good. I’m opening my eyes.” He turns to face me, his eyes smiling with boyish delight. “Well… do you like it?”
“Regan, it’s… wonderful. I know I already said that, but... well, words fail me. It’s really great. I absolutely love it.”
He smiles broadly. “I knew you would.”
He ducks down and pushes himself off from the side of the little pool, swimming under the water for a few strokes, to come out huffing and puffing at the other side, a few yards away.
Then he lazily turns on his back and pushes off again, gliding smoothly back.
I can’t help but admire his body, smooth, firmly muscled, skin glistening and wet.
He turns and treads water, extends his hand.
“Come on. Come and stand under the waterfall.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yeah. Done it plenty of times. I’ll show you.”
Taking his hand, we wade at chest height through the pool towards the far end, where the water crashes down from the cliff above.
“Here, hold my left hand and step just here, like this. I won’t let go, don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe.”
And I feel safe. Somehow, I know this competent man would rather let himself be hurt than allow any harm to come to me. Just as I had always felt with Papa as a little girl. Protected, nurtured, cared for.
I grip his left hand tightly with my right, then I summon up my courage and let go of the side of the pool, letting my body swing out into the middle of the flow of tumbling, crashing water, with nothing to keep me from being swept away by the pounding force of the waterfall except the strength of Regan’s firm grip on my hand.
I gasp, the falling torrent pounding exhilaratingly against my scalp and shoulders as if from an invigorating massage by a dozen enthusiastic masseurs all at once.
The sensation is powerful—almost overwhelming. The sounds, the colors, the warm sunshine, the pounding of the falling water on my skin, the call of the birds, and above it all, the strong, secure grasp of his hand on mine.
After a moment or two he swings me back, and as he does so my body just naturally carries right on, swinging directly into his.
Hip to hip, stomach to stomach, chest to chest.
Neither of us say anything, there’s nothing to say. What comes now is inevitable.
I close my eyes, open my mouth. He reaches down, tenderly tracing the line of my cheek, before his lips finally find mine, and I’m enveloped in his strong, masculine grip, his tongue finding its way into my mouth to twine against my own.
His chest rising and falling against my breasts, my nipples hardening, and my breathing deepening as I let myself be kissed.
His hands are on my thighs now, sliding upwards, cupping my buttocks as we kiss deeply, my eyes still closed as I drink in the sensations of his body against mine.
I feel his manhood, stiff against my thigh, and I ease my hand down to grasp it. He gives a gasp as I grip him, rubbing along his length, feeling him jerk and shudder.
Gently, he turns me around until I’m facing the side of the pool, bending me down, my upper torso in the warm sunlight, my lower body in the swirling waters of the pool.
He positions himself and eases into me, and then it’s my turn to let out a gasp.
It’s been a long time, and I’m not all that experienced with men, and he’s big.
I can feel the full extent of him inside me.
But he’s gentle, considerate. He doesn’t rush, he eases his way in, his stubbly chin nuzzling the back of my neck, his arms cupping me, trapping me gently around the waist. I feel comfortable, almost lazy, letting Regan take control, do the work.
He pulls slowly back, then eases into me again, pushing a little further, a little deeper. I let out another gasp as I feel his pubes against my little nub, which stiffens with the sensation. I shiver, my whole body a glowing stream of sensation, radiating in all directions.
He withdraws once more, pauses, then pushes in again, and this time he goes all the way, his hips grinding into my ass, and I push back with equal force, gasping at the strength—the sweetness—of the sensations I am feeling.
His rhythm picks up, faster, harder, not violent, but incessant, like a well-oiled machine, maintained in top form.
His athleticism gives him strength and energy, and I start to shudder as he takes me, harder, harder, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, the electricity coursing through me, and I can feel the wave as it comes closer, ever closer, swelling, growing, until with a roar, it’s upon me and I am coming like I’ve never come before. Shuddering, jerking in his strong arms.
I’m not sure if I scream or not. I’m not even sure if I lose consciousness for just a moment.
I don’t really care about anything right now.
I just want to lie there, still and silent.
The birds are singing in the trees, the water is splashing down into our little pool, and my man is holding me tight.
Not letting me go. Not ever letting me go.