I’d never come into a woman with her pants still on; Callie needed careful cleanup to keep her very expensive custom-fit riding breeches from getting stained, and as much as I wanted to be with her, touching her, inside her ...
Lying together, her eyes in mine in hers. Her cheeks were wet. Mine? Yeah, OK, yes, mine were wet, too. But we were just getting warmed up, never did get to the hiking part of our trip.
“I want us to share more,” she said.
It was twenty minutes later. Me as happy as a somewhat curtailed happy person could be.
“We should wrestle,” she said.
OK, I’m (a slimming!) 220 pounds, and she’s maybe 135 after a big meal. I’m 6′3″ and she’s 5′9″. 85 pounds and six inches.
She wants to wrestle? With me, the guy who wrestled in high school and college and even lettered? Her soft hand on my arm. Her soft voice in my ear, in my head. Inside. And I nodded.
Both of us naked now, me with that ridiculous arrow of belly hair pointing down to my cock, she came in fast and fluid and low, slipped under around behind me, and before I knew who was where was what, with just that one quick motion I went down backwards over her leg.
Ok, NOT fair. She was smiling, but this time I would be more ready.
And I was, I seriously was, I lettered in fucking college at this. She tried, I prevented, I’ve always had great balance and without the benefit of mass or surprise she was not going to take my formerly overconfident self down like that again, and that dance went on for a while. She was genuinely badass. I mean, seriously outweighed and maybe out-trained (or maybe I was the one who was out-trained since for me it was decades ago) by that much, and even though I wasn’t attacking, she wasn’t giving up anything. She had moves I’d never seen before.
And then we were on the ground, and I honestly have no idea how we got there, and I was much stronger and much heavier so this should’ve been very bad for her, but she had my arm in some kind of hold and it totally fucking hurt like it was going to come out of its socket and I said something that sounded like submission, and she let go and said, “you’re good at this.”
And then we did it again, but this time she had no chance. And she was trying, that much was abundantly clear. But I ended up on top of her firm athletic soft graceful body, our eyes in each others’, and I put my hand on her, below, our ankles twined, and she assented, and my cock, which had become distractingly prominent, found its holster wet and oh so warm, a perfect fit, our struggle became something entirely different, and we fucked each other’s brains out.
And now she was crying, sometimes outright sobbing, releasing something deeply held, her arms tight around my neck in the closest hug I’d ever shared, and my eyes were on hers, concerned, but she was smiling at the same time, crying for joy, and she took my chin in her hands and kissed me hard and said “Bob, I love you.”
Words were still a challenge for me. I had to settle for nodding.
And when she was done crying, and I guess I’d been crying too, we lay alongside each other, our arms still draped, sighing, nodding off for a few minutes together.
When we woke and breathed together for another few minutes, she kissed me and said “Now the staff,” and rose, such a graceful, economical movement, whistling for her horse and calling its name. She had two lightweight wooden staves, about two meters long. She tossed one to me and I caught it in the middle, at its center of balance. She stood with the other about 10 feet away.
“This is a bo staff,” she said, “and I can tell that you haven’t used one before, but I’m going to show you. You’ll need to get good with this, and between me and the others, you will, and it won’t take nearly as long as you might think, not just because we already know you’re a fast learner. Now, look deep into my eyes, into my soul, as I look into yours, then follow what I do. I’ll go slowly at first.”
And, widening her stance, which, damned testosterone, was a fucking sexy thing to do, she held her staff in front of her, hands together, and began spinning it, hand over hand, slowly at first so I could see how.
She was actually doing something my body knew well; a lifetime ago I’d dabbled at being a drum major for my high school band, so this, at least, was familiar. I spun it, tossed it upwards, caught it, still spinning. She nodded, impressed but also not, then switched to one hand, moving it to her side. No longer flipping it, just rotating her wrist, slowly at first. This was not something I’d done so much in my prospective drum major days, so it took a bit longer to get the hang of it, and once I did she rotated her staff back in front of her, changed hands, and brought it to her other side, smiling. She had such a beautiful smile, it made me look up and away from her hands as they moved, and that’s why she’d smiled in the first place, so my body could find its way without looking. And with her smile, and her heartbreakingly lovely eyes and the motion of her hands and arms and staff, her ponytail swaying behind, one leg planting a foot forward or back a few times every minute, faster and faster, I began to see her beautiful soul. And now I was smiling, too.
Then with two hands again, the staff going under her arms, alternating sides, waiting for me to catch on to her rhythm and then speeding up, my eyes moving back to hers.
Her staff moving from one side to the other, faster, rotating in flawless almost silent rhythm, faster still, her hips moving with her wrists and the staff, my eyes found a new focus: her moving center, her core, her vulva, because all of this was very deeply hypnotic. Partly shaved, mostly just clipped short, it was like she was dancing, dancing with me, in complete control of her motion and my response to it, and my hands and wrists and arms were following exactly, and it was like being sucked whole into Mari’s devastatingly hypnotic eyes again, and now there were three staves between us, and Callie’s smile grew wider, and her staff’s spin slowed and so did mine, and she stopped, her hands a little more than shoulder’s width apart on her staff horizontal in front of her and so mine were too, and before I could react she very quickly bashed one end of her staff hard against mine, the only obstacle between her staff and my skull. And then reversed more slowly, the other end of her staff coming up at me from below and mine dropped to block it, and then reversing again to come around like an axe chopping at me from the side and mine rising to intercept and then from the other side, and then from above and below and from either side and then spinning up and over her elbow and then everything started getting too fast for me to follow to describe to remember to follow to repeat and the staves made a kind of music banging together, like Stomp! like shrieks like my eyes were glazed over gazing into her eyes, into her center, into her beautiful soul and my own was communicating how very deeply focused I was on her, and she began using that, rotating her belly, her hips, one foot at a time, feeling more of that primal motion and my response to it and her outer lips were parting and I was well and truly throbbing and the sharp percussive reports of her staff striking mine like jazz in 13/4 time and I reached out to strike back and of course she blocked it easily but it was my first time and she was pleased, and her beautiful smile lit up her lovely face and we began trading blows, all of them intercepted before landing and then she swept down hard at my ankles and if that had landed it would have broken at least one of them but I hopped over the sweep and thank goddess she wasn’t going full speed or I would’ve been a dozen times dead and my eyes roamed freely on the narrow way between hers and her center, taking in the gorgeous slim curve of her hips, of her toned belly and ribs and the slight swell of her shallow beautifully pointed soft conical breasts, slender neck and shoulders, smooth oval chin and slightly freckled face, thin sharp nose, and her eyes, oh, her beautiful eyes, her soul shining from behind, and she knew exactly what she was doing to me and it pleased her very much that she could do that and then
She stopped. I stopped. Her juices were beginning to trickle down her legs, and I was so turned on by her and her motion and her eyes and her center and
She dropped her staff between us. And I dropped mine on hers. And she took a step toward me, a hesitant step, and goddess she was so graceful, and I took a step toward her, our eyes deep in each other’s, and then there were more slow steps and her hand reaching and my arms reaching and then we were on her blanket and my eyes were in hers in mine and she had such a beautiful soul and I was so deep in her and she was riding and then I was riding and then she was, and I wasn’t going to come until she did and she wasn’t going to come until I did and our eyes and our hearts and our souls so deep, our motions slowing, our bodies relaxing, her all the way down on me, pressing down on my balls, squeezing herself around me, my hands on her breasts and then her lips on mine and her tongue, and then
“Three,” she whispered, as much for herself as for me, but really it was for us.
“Two.” And I could feel it coming and she could feel it coming, and we could feel it coming together, and
And my world changed completely, irrevocably, irretrievably.
She wanted to ride me, on my horse, as we rode back. But her 135 pounds, maybe, on my 220, would’ve been too much for either of our horses, she judged. So, mostway back, we found a log, a big-ass fallen tree that had been cut up enough that some kind of heavy machinery could move it from the trail. On my lap, our eyes deep in each other’s, she mounted me, rode me, up and down quickly but then stretching as deep as she could with those lovely slim hips rotating into me at the bottom of each stroke to get me as deep as possible, promising we would do this again another time with a bigger horse, and our minds fucking blew each other’s apart. Again.
I love her. I love Callie. Everything about her. When had I ever felt anything like this before?
When we re-entered the hall, to not a little fanfare, everyone wanted to know.
Callie holding my hand, said “He’s mine. And I’m his.”
This caused some consternation. From Sati, of course, but also from others. Particularly from Jess, which made me sad. Jess was carrying my baby.
“You fought?” Ingrid asked. Ingrid had hardly said a word in my presence before that moment, and her voice was heavily accented in the same way Sati’s used to be.
“We loved,” Callie said. And I nodded.
“Sparred,” Dani said, and Callie and I both nodded.
Ingrid nodded, too. “Tomorrow morning, we see,” she said. And Sati nodded, and everyone else nodded, most of them smiling, and then they all held hands in a circle around us, kissing both of us tenderly on the lips in turn, blessing.
And then there was dinner, and then there was yet another orgy. And my body couldn’t help perceiving that as good as all of this was, something different was coming.
Next morning, up early in comfy padded robes outside while Sati tended an apple tree in full blossom, roses of many colors and sizes blooming in fragrant fecund profusion nearby, Ingrid beat the shit out of me. Well, not literally ... that would’ve been weird.
She also instructed everyone closely, especially Dani and Taylor who were mostly working on more basic movements, but she absolutely destroyed Stuart way worse than me although he more than held his own against the others, then at some point many of the women started double-teaming his abundantly endowed self and began prevailing, and they sparred with each other and with me and Kelsey was almost as good as Callie though there was no possible fucking way that anyone was going to even approach what Ingrid could do to anyone anytime, but ...
Ingrid and I sparred. She could’ve, she should’ve, and she was but then she wasn’t. I mean, she was so strong for her size and eyeblink fast and she totally TOTALLY kicked my ass even though it was clear she wasn’t going full speed with lethal intent, just one forward flip with her foot extending and angled and accelerating and the business end hard as oak, so fast it was like judgement but knowing there was no one to receive it made that abundantly clear if it wasn’t already, but I stayed up, still receiving but mostly deflecting everything she dealt, mostly just wrestling but also a few strikes, and she seemed content and ... what else in a warrior’s life could be as fulfilling as sparring with the immortal bodyguard of maybe the most goddesslike of goddesses in the history of goddesses and not going down?
Later, of course, I totally went down.