Monday, April 02, 2007

English Mistressess .......

.......I've had two.

Not too bad for an introverted redneck country boy, I'd say.

There's just something about them that draws you in. Kinda like funnel cake at the county fair. Or the barker shouting "Come see the girl born with no body, only a head".

I remember the first, in my youth. As a young Army officer, freshly come from the killing fields, to the airfields of Germany. She drew me in with her beauty. The sleek lines of her body, her clothes.... colors molded almost closer than skin to her. As alluring as a breath of fresh air to a drowning man. And I tried drowning myself within her. With her I lived out my fantasies. I was 007, Errol Flynn, Alexander the Great, conqueror of all I surveyed. With her I could go anywhere, do anything. I was her first. Sadly.... not to be her last, for when I returned to the States she wouldn't come with me. It preys on my mind at times that she didn't come. I see her in my minds eye, as fresh, as alluring, as lithe as in my youth, for in my mind she never grows old.

And now I have another...

...Older, I'm not her first, nor she mine...

She came to me from a failed relationship....bruised, bearing her scars of abuse at the hands of those who did not respect her... her lineage, her heritage, her subtle grace and beauty.

Still, holding her head high, she asks for no quarter from anyone. She pulled me to her, casually, almost off handedly. As if to say.. 'will you be worthy of me'? And I try. I ply her with rich vintages. I buy her salves and unguents for her body and the scars which, while she doesn't try to hide them, she turns so as to mask them from the stares of gawkers and the illiterate who would point and not understand. And she seems grateful that I understand and am patient with her.

Heavier than the first in my youth, she is still graceful. Hiding the strength within her, she moves with that rare combination of agility and speed which surprises those who have not experienced her kind. When I enter her, at my pleasure, she moves to accommodate me, remembering my preferences, my likes, so that each time, while new, the same, for I am older now, and set in my ways. Yet when stroked just so, she growls and moves almost more quickly than I can adjust to... leaping, rushing to the finish. And so we complement each other... each bringing to the relationship seemingly what the other needs at this time in our lives. A little excitement, a little danger...... and a little, much needed, stability.

She is.................

1 comment:

Jean said...

hmmmm... let's see. You are a man and a romantic... I'm betting it's a car.

How sad that the first one did not come home with you. I think she must regret that to this day.
She missed being loved by a wonderful man.