Jen's Legacy.

He leaned down to kiss her. Even that small movement sent him farther into her and started him to come, yet again, and once begun, there was no stopping that progression.

She remained still, knowing now what would happen. As before, he became focused, breathing heavily, his facial features changing even as she watched. As before, he paused, froze up, tensed, groaned as he stopped breathing, poised for only a moment like that as every feeling he had was concentrated down there, on being in her, still retaining enough consciousness of what he was doing to know that he must not push hard, or he would hurt her beyond belief.

Unlike before, the first time, all of his ejaculate went into her this time, but he was not deep enough into her for it to stay there. As soon as he relaxed or came out of her, it would run back out of her as easily as it had gone in. Most of it.

It took them both a few minutes to recover their thoughts and to bring their heart rates and breathing back to normal, if they could ever get back to normal with the excited way they kissed and continued to move together.

Eventually, they both came down to being able to speak, but not moving away from each other. It was only natural that he would think of Jen at such an intimate moment, as she had been the last one he had made love to like this.

“Jen, would have liked you. She was a woman who knew her own mind, just as you do, and would let nothing get in her way. She was my life.”

Just as Claire would now be; inheriting that role from Jen and happy to bear that torch.

Jen had been the driving force in him becoming intimate with her within a few hours of them meeting too, just as Claire was trying to do, not taking, ‘no’, for an answer. She had fallen in love, knowing it, and knowing how important it was to her that he soon made love to her fully, but also able to bounce back from each little setback leading up to them making proper love.

In reality, there had never been any significant delay. He had told Claire a little white lie. It had not taken them days to make love properly, or for him to get fully into her at all. Jen had made sure it happened--all the way in--in the first hour of their meeting, and never mind the discomfort. But Jen had only minutes to hours to captivate him to her, however she could (and there was but one obvious way); not days, as Claire had.

There were no real setbacks with Claire either. He had not refused outright to make love to her. She knew how much this difficulty of him getting into her frustrated him, and that they would soon need to make proper love, for his sake as well as hers, instead of skating around it unsatisfactorily. He would always need that better release of being fully buried within her body when he came, but there was also that concern they both had, of getting, or causing, hurt.

“You don’t have to worry about me doing anything stupid with my life because of grief, Claire. I am over that hurdle, thanks to you and this, but I… everything is moving so fast for me after three months of nothing, feeling nothing, not knowing how I would be able to go on, but always somehow managing to go on.”

He leaned down to kiss her, never able to get enough of her, aching to continue, and to push a little more into her each time, as his body demanded he do, knowing that the invitation was still there for him to do that to her, and she was now well lubricated with his sperm. He wanted to. A slight push forward, an inch or so, considering where he was, would do it... getting him over that hump... but that slight push would be excruciatingly painful for her.

“Give me a little more time, please.”

Their roles seem to have been turned on their heads. He, was the one who should have been 'full speed ahead' and breaking through all barriers, and she, the one pleading for more time and a more thoughtful and patient approach.

She would have to accept that; not disappointed at all, the way things had gone, but she was also relieved. She had begun to feel very stretched, even with that small additional movement into her.

“We can eat, and then I’ll go and get more wood from the base of that slope where I left it and bring in some grasses and other things to make a softer bed for us."

For us!

“While I’m doing that, and with that water now getting deeper and that lotion working on you, you can sit in that water again and even lie out in it again. It will help you cool down and it should help that rash clear up quickly enough. I’ll soon be back, and we can continue where we left off, but first I’ll clear some of the rougher rock fragments out of it so that you can lie down properly, and then I’ll join you when I get back and we can talk.”

They both knew that they would do much more than talk, now.

As far as Claire was concerned, things could not have gone better. He was as in love with her, as she was with him, and knowing that, she could now back-off, and move a little more slowly and thoughtfully, while still getting everything she wanted.

“I’ll put some more of that cortisone lotion on you just before we retire if you are still sore (and even if she wasn’t. It would always be exciting to touch her so intimately, and to take his time about it), and if it is cool tonight, that will help. Don’t wear that swimsuit tomorrow, and leave your clothes loose on you; let your skin breathe.”

She could do better than that. She would be leaving them off altogether.

He lifted his pan away from the flames, added some cold water to it and then, as she sat up, he put her shirt around her to give her some protection from the sun-- now low in the sky-- though not fastening it, pausing for a few moments, feeling obliged to reach out, focus upon, and caress her breasts; to pay homage to them. Such beauty, inviting his attention-- calling out for it-- should never be ignored. He would not have been alive if he had been able to ignore them.

He passed her his spoon.

“Sit here, Royce. She patted beside herself, more confident of what would happen between them, now that they had made such a revolutionary start on this relationship and had lost most restraint.

He sat in front of her instead, with her legs over his; that still-aroused part, nudging at her, continually seeking permission to enter, and where he could look into her face and hold her by the waist as they spoke, and where he could also admire all that he could see of her, and she of him.

He smiled mischievously up at her. “I like the view much better here.” Of course he did. He could touch more of her too.

He backed away and brought the pan between their legs, everything about their bodies, openly exposed to the other to admire and to touch at will, as she shared the thick, salty soup with him. One spoonful for him-- feeding him as his hands rested on her waist or rose to her breasts as he leaned closer to her, or even fell to touch her, even to go gently into her-- and then one spoonful for her; going back and forth like that until it was finished.

He leaned forward and touched her cheek as they moved close together again.

“Thank you for trusting me to see to you earlier with that cream and for having the courage to ask me to make love to you. I did not expect that, but I am so glad you did.”

She brought his hand up to touch and to hold her breast. It would not be long before he made love to her properly at the rate they were going, and she would be the initiator, and would welcome that wondrous pain by then, just as Jen had, from what he’d said about Jen giving him no choice.

He rose to his knees, kissed her, holding her close in his arms as they decided what to do, looking into each other’s eyes. She could feel that eager part of his touching at her, knocking at her door, but needing to be better directed.

But the sun was getting lower in the sky. Later, damn! It would have to be later. It would soon be dark, and he had more wood to bring in.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the pool, both giggling as he mouthed at her breasts, and gently deposited her in the warm water.

He sighed, not wanting to leave her. “I should go and bring some more wood in before it gets dark, and then I'll join you.” She had to accept that.

She lay back in that pool as he’d suggested, and watched him dress in his underwear and shorts, then watched him retreat to the slope with his rope loops again, obviously not wanting to leave her, to gather up more of that wood he’d left there and to struggle back with it. It could get very cold tonight where they were, far from the influence of the river and at a few thousand feet of elevation.