“…Are you going to really fuck me up in this tree, Axel?” she said breathlessly.
He unzipped his jeans and slipped his dick out from the slit of his boxers. Carefully repositioning himself, he grabbed his shaft and…
“Ahhh… SHIT!”
They groaned at the same time as he pumped his hips, thrusting in fast and short lunges. The wind blew through his hair, carrying her perfume, and his hand burned as he gripped the tree for purchase. He managed to hoist himself higher, locked his ankles around her body to ensure she stayed put, and let her have it…
“AXEL! OH, GOD! SHIT! That feels so good.” He slipped his hand down from her waist to her clit, where he strummed his thumb over it, feeling it swell. Her snug walls swallowed him in, driving him crazy.
Then, she made a noise he’d never heard her make before. One of the branches right above their heads shook violently as he had his way with her, and birds flew away from nearby trees. Their grunts, sighs, and moans of pure ecstasy echoed in the air.
“You wanted to see the sky. Figured I’d give you a little slice of heaven…”
She came again as he kissed the side of her face, her once neat ponytail now sloppy, the scrunchie holding on for dear life. She trembled against him and yelled his name right before he came deep inside of her, chasing the end of his climax with a few fast pumps, draining himself completely.
They went quiet for a moment. Hearts beating fast.
“I made you holler in the holler,” he joked.
She laughed lazily, panting, eyes closed. “I bet you couldn’t wait to say that.”
Moments later, they managed to get back down to Earth. His muscles felt like rubber bands after such an unusual workout, and all he really wanted to do was curl up next to her in the truck and go to sleep, but he figured he’d catch his second wind soon enough. Besides, he was hungry, too. So off they went past the creek, taking pictures along the way. When the sun went down a little more, they trekked back to the truck. After they got settled inside, he grabbed a root beer from the cooler, and handed her one.
“Awww! You remembered when I told you that me and my daddy used to always pick up root beer when I’d accompany him to remote areas in the woods for his job when I was kid. He’d help with the lawn services. I can’t believe you recalled that.”
“Yeah. I remembered.” He could feel himself blushing, and hated it. Starting up the engine, she suddenly leaned over to him and planted a big, fat kiss on his mouth.
“I ain’t never screwed in a tree before. That was a first.”
“There’s more where that came from,” he promised.
She grinned from ear to ear, then plopped back in her seat, clicking her seatbelt in place.
“Got me out here feeling like Jane with Tarzan.” She popped the lid, and slurped loud and happily.
He pulled away from their makeshift parking space, and gained speed on the road. After a few minutes, he turned on the radio.
The staticky sounds of ‘Captain of her Heart,’ by Double, greeted them.
He took her hand and held it for the rest of the way up that old bumpy road…
Chapter Sixteen
One pretty day, I was sitting outside, in Central Park, New York. I was in the bustling city for a convention. I hadn’t attended one before, but always up to travel, I jumped at the chance to meet and speak with other book conservators, curators, and periodical preservers. Our jobs are sometimes monotonous. Although often thankless, this is also the most rewarding occupation I’ve ever had, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. On this particular day, I had a few hours of downtime before our group was to meet for dinner, so I decided to go to the Metropolitan Museum, then head across the street to Central Park.
I walked around for a while, checking out the sprawling greenery, dogs catching balls and frisbees, couples holding hands and talking as they strolled past. There were children and adults of all races and sizes—such a diverse landscape of folks, making it the kind of place you imagine Heaven might be like. The air smelled like smog and hot pretzels covered in salt. Finding an unoccupied park bench, I sat down, placed my favorite black and white striped canvas tote bag on my side, and pulled out a book to read—for pleasure.
Strange how after all of these years I don’t remember the name of that book, or the author for that matter. If you know me well, then you are aware that is almost unheard of for me. What I do recall is that it was a biography, an obscure literary nugget nestled between the reads about the great civil rights leaders of the 1960’s, and Black inventors of the 20th century. If my memory serves me right, it had something to do with a Black male dancer in the 1930s, who was hiding his true identity, including his sexuality. It’s all a bit murky. I didn’t enjoy or not enjoy the book. It was just something to look at, something different for the day. I like different. I do remember something that was written in it though that I felt I should keep in my mental back pocket until the next sunrise when God would request my RSVP for a hard lesson in my life…