The Plumber’s Daughter Chapter 2

The Plumber Daughter Chapter 2
By Beagle9690
December 2010

Author’s Note: as with the Chapter one, I continue to delve in detail into Marie and Patrick’s past to put their Romance and deep feeling for each other into perspective. Some won’t like the story for its lack of constant vicarious sex, while others will for the Romance that it is.

Marie:

PATRICK OFFERED ME HIS HAND and helped me get to my feet. He was looking at me thoughtfully with his kind, honest eyes and smiling with his dimples on display. Patrick’s smiles make my heart melt. He touched my face gently and said, “Thank you, Marie,” just like that and he meant it. I was thinking, ‘What a sweet thing to say. Little intimate things and gestures mean so much to him’. I think back as he stood up to thank me when I brought him his cup of coffee. He didn’t sit back down on the porch swing until I sat first. It’s such a little thing that cup of coffee. The smile on his face told me how much he appreciated it, like his smile does now. What nice manners he has and I adore his polite and gentle ways with women; unless he is making love to them of course, and then, oh and then.

I put my arms around his neck. They belong there now. Patrick is mine, “When are we going to our bedroom to do the broodmare stallion thing?” “That is dirty talk, Marie.” “You promised,” I teasingly reminded him while mussing his hair and kissing both of his cheeks. “I still promise. It will be after the Fireman’s Carnival later this evening and only after I eat you out first my beautiful vanilla girl. As you well know I’m committed to selling raffle tickets to help support the County Animal Shelter. I planned on asking you out on our first date before I knew about it. Will you do me the honor? I won’t be selling tickets the whole day.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I replied, thinking, ‘Nope, not for all the money in the world. One way or another I will let that redhead know that she had her chance years ago and blew it, or maybe she didn’t blow it and that is why they broke up. Nevertheless, you’re mine now,” and then I offered, “I’ll help you and Susan sell raffle tickets.” “That’s great! I’m so glad you’re being such a good sport about it. Do you like French fries with salt and malt vinegar? They also have Tabasco sauce there. If I’d known that you like hot and spicy I would have added hot peppers to the fried potatoes.”

Patrick:

WHILE I WAS IN THE BATHTUB WASHING Marie came into the bathroom wearing only a bra and panties and I thought, ‘It is a shame we don’t have the time for Marie to join me“and I was distracted thinking about her soaking in the tub with me all nice and cozy….”Which of these shirts do you want me to wear?” She asked “I ironed them both…. Did you hear what I said Patrick? Do you want to wear the blue one?” Marie asked holding them up by their hangers “or this red one with the white pearl buttons?” “The red will be fine and you didn’t have to iron them, Marie.” “Of course I did. My outfit is already ironed and yours only took a few minutes. ” She hung the shirts on the open bathroom door and picked up my bottle of baby shampoo.

“Sit back and relax while I give you a nice shampoo and scalp massage” and I thought, “Who was I to argue with that?” “If I decide to grow my hair long again, it will be your job to help me care for it.” “Yes, and it will be my pleasure….that feels wonderful. Although I should tell I really adore your sexy bob.

Marie:

“DO YOU LIKE THE COLOR OF MY HAIR, PATRICK? It is my natural color you know?” “I love the color of your hair…..a little more to the left please.” “Would you prefer me better as a blonde?” she asked “No, I can’t see you as a blonde. That’s it, use your fingers.” “What about if I dyed it red and then cut my hair really short in an ultra layered pixie?” I asked. “It is your hair and your choice, however since you are asking my opinion, no to a red dyed hair and definitely not in a short pixie….use your fingers on the crown.” “Why did you go out with Susan in High School, Patrick? What was the attraction?”

“I know that I’m not much to look at Marie and I see where this is going. A little bit more to the right…yes, right there. I accept how God made me and am thankful for all my blessings such as you. Does that seem simplistic to you? What you see is what you get. You are a beautiful woman and that’s a fact. You are as God made you… beautiful. Yes, I like long hair on women and yes, I like your God given hair color very much.

I also am partial to your bob because it looks very good on you. I will like it when it turns silver gray or white as will mine. I was attracted to Susan at one time because of her long red hair. She let me brush her hair and do anything I wanted to with it like…ouch, not so hard and stop pulling.” “That was an accident. Close your eyes so that I can rinse.” “No, it wasn’t and now it is my turn to ask some questions. Don’t even think about rinsing the shampoo out with cold water. Did you ever dye your hair red or cut it really short?” “No, but I was a blonde for most of my marriage.” “My guess is you became a blonde because your ex-husband preferred it that way, right?”

“Yes, it was blonde for him and long for me.” “Your parents didn’t approve of the change in color, didn’t they, Marie? As a matter of fact, I bet they and especially your Dad didn’t think much of your ex right from the beginning but kept their mouth shut for your sake. My intuition tells me that the Jerk was a self-centered and was most likely intimidated by your temper. He no doubt was scared silly of your father.” I was thinking ‘I assumed right, Patrick wouldn’t approve of any drastic color change or cut. He will let me do anything I want with my hair and not complain or sulk. With the Jerk, blonde was almost a mandate’

I’m amazed how close Patrick hit home on both counts and I’m somewhat relieved by it as well and I do want us to be honest and open with each other.

“After your divorce you cut your hair shorter as a statement of sorts; a new beginning so to speak. You also went back to your natural color to assert your new found independence? I can pretty much guess the rest. I want us to be open and honest with each other. That being said this can be a new beginning for the both of us, Marie. We can share a life journal and start a clean white blank page. I want this house to eventually be your home. I strongly suggest that you call your mother and father and tell them where you are. You are lucky to have them you know. I miss mine. I’m sure they are worried by now. I’d like very much to meet them.”

It is almost as if Patrick can read my mind. I was going to be a little playful and rinse with cold water. Now I really can’t wait for Patrick to meet my parents. It seems that we are on the same page about everything so far. Later today we will be writing an entry in our life journal with our first date at the Fireman’s Carnival. I haven’t been this excited about a date since high school. I dressed carefully for the occasion. For the most part we were wearing the style same clothing. Patrick was wearing his signature blue jeans with his jean jacket over the red western cut shirt.

The borrowed jeans I wore fit me like a second skin and I was wearing a similar ladies red western shirt. The back of my jean jacket had two beautifully executed and exact to scale, hand embroidered red cardinals, male and female on a white birch tree branch. Even our moccasins boots were the same double vamped construction and made from buffalo and elk hides by the Russell Moccasin Company of Berlin, Wisconsin. I have to say they are the most comfortable footwear I have ever worn. There is a wicker basket in the reading room (bathroom) full of catalogs. I’m going to have Patrick measure my feet per the instructions on the paper template in the Russell Catalog for them to make a wood last for my feet so I can order another pair.

Patrick was in the east pasture talking to White Cloud and feeding her apples when I came out to model my outfit for him. Those moccasins were quiet and I was almost able to sneak up on him, however White Cloud saw me and started prancing in place and shaking her head. She trotted over where I was walking quietly along the fence drawing Patrick’s attention over to me. I now understood why his wife named the horse White Cloud. This gentle old mare is all brown except for a large white patch extending the entire length of her back.

He walked over to us carrying a small, well used dented metal bucket and flashed me a smile like sunshine. Patrick put the bucket down and he picked me by the waist to swing me around; holding me up in the air as if I weighed nothing. “You look lovely my lady, my Marie. We may be mistaken for twins by the way we are dressed and you planned it this way all along” and he kissed me.

Patrick was absolutely beaming and I thought, ‘He said my Marie…my Marie, this is so wonderful! Things do not happen like this in real life and therefore I’m going to make the best of it and never wake up from this wonderful dream. This is my chance to climb every mountain and follow my dream of painting and drawing in my own little studio. Patrick offered to lend me the studio if I wanted it.’

He continued as he gently put me down “You have no idea how beautiful you look my Queen. I believe White Cloud thought at first you were her Mistress. She came right over to you and horses can sense things. Many Native Americans believe horses can read our auras and will choose us and then their love and loyalty is absolute. Would you like to be White Cloud’s Mistress?” and he took a piece of carrot from the bucket, “Put your hand out like this,” he put a piece of carrot in my palm, “she won’t bite your fingers so don’t pull away when you feel her lips on your palm…that’s it, can you feel her lips? White Cloud, this is Marie Antoinette, not Anne Marie, but you probably know that now,” White Cloud shook her head up and down and then nuzzled my hand, ‘Here is another piece. You may pet her like this….that’s it; tell now tell White Cloud she’s a grand old lady.”

Patrick:

WHEN MARIE CAME OUT DRESSED COUNTRY she looked so beautiful it was enough to make my heart skip a beat. As I was swinging her about I was thinking ‘Marie is so patient with me. She lets me pick her up and kiss her. She puts up with my silly antics…I just can’t help myself when I’m alone with her. It is only the two of us. I’ll never embarrass Marie by acting like that in public. White Cloud is accustomed this kind of behavior from me when I am happy. She lets me hand feed her yet will only eat her treats out of this bucket for Sam. This is the clincher. She ate out of Marie’s hand and allowed Marie to hug her neck. I’m not the most handsome cuss in the world and yet Marie chose me, while White Cloud chose her. I can’t wait to walk around the Carnival and show Marie off and to introduce her to everyone. I haven’t attended the Carnival in three years and Susan has been after me to take her there for two. I have to get Susan alone and explain things to her. I owe her that. I hope I’m not making a mistake by taking Marie with me. But God bless her, Marie is not too proud to wear borrowed clothes for now. What we need is an Adventure’.

Marie:

IT IS A HALF HOUR RIDE TO THE FIREMAN’S CARNIVAL and we were like teenagers sitting close and I held his hand while we drove there. Patrick confided in me he is amazed White Cloud took to me the way she did. I can’t wait to ride her and Patrick is going to teach me. Until then I have to learn to groom and care for her. He explained that I was chosen by White Cloud. I think that’s so cool. We also talked a little about living together. Patrick said that we can go on our first Adventure in three weeks or when the owner of the pregnant mare comes to get her. He is very secretive about the details about our Adventure and said to expect a few surprises.

Before we went to the ticket booth Patrick and I walked around the Carnival to look around. I was hoping he will put his arm around my waist as we walked, although I was content when he firmly took my arm as gentlemen will a lady.
I feel so safe being on his arm. He walks with a confidence few men posses. I have observed many men of wealth and privilege walk with an arrogant swagger; not with Patrick’s open and friendly manner.
I wonder…….if someone were to take away their wealth and power; will they walk the same arrogant confidence? What do they have in reserve to back it up?

We casually strolled along as if we owned the ground we walked although we were willing to share it… or make way if politely asked. During the introductions I stood as close to him, silently claiming Patrick as mine. He introduced me to quite a few people on the way to our first destination, Darby’s French fry Stand. Those delicious fries were just as Patrick described them. I watched as Darby or his wife tore a portion of butcher paper from a huge roll to form that section of paper into a large cone and then tape it closed.

Every order was made fresh and served in those paper cones. We took our fries to a picnic table where Patrick unrolled the cones for makeshift plates. He added a little salt, a little malt vinegar and a dash of Tabasco Sauce. They were delicious. We sat together on the bench and shared them. We also shared ice cold fresh squeezed lemonade passing the large paper cup back and forth.

After we finished, Patrick put his arm around my waist and gave me a hug. He then kissed my cheek. “Is that all I get?” I asked, mussing his thick unruly blonde hair. “I suppose we must face the inevitable and help sell raffle tickets,” he sighed, leaning forward and kissing my lips, “We had better get going.”

“Wait, Patrick, I have something to tell you,” I put my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, “I want you to talk dirty to me.”“Not here, Marie. Not with all these people around,” he said starting to stand. “Are you embarrassed to whisper naughty words in my ear, a big strong man like you?” I asked teasingly, knowing that he wouldn’t. I tried to make him sit down which is impossible so I got up with him.

“I’m not embarrassed, but this is not the time and the place for it.” “Can we compromise then?” I asked, still holding on to his neck, “I’ll whisper dirty words in your ear and I said “A pig fell in the mud.”

Patrick:

WHAT A PLEASURE IT IS TO HAVE A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN ON MY ARM. Marie was very charming when I introduced her around. She has a nice way with people. She seems to fit in or is trying very hard to fit in. I haven’t been on a date in years and I was worried that things might be a bit awkward. That was not the case at all. I can be myself with Marie. Susan is a negotiator and an avid organizer and very efficient at managing money. She always gave me what I wanted and always wanted something small in return.

She was also more mature than me when we were 17. I had a one track mind then, getting laid. Susan had a one track mind as well. I was being groomed to be a husband. Every date was almost an orchestrated event with a script to follow. Not that she won’t compromise or is completely controlling. Not that I didn’t enjoy being with her; she prefers everything neatly in its place. When it is, Susan is a pleasure to be around. In other words, Susan is not spontaneous and will not just drop whatever she is doing and travel at the drop of a hat like Anne and I did. To do so will place Susan out of her comfort zone.

Will Susan make a good wife? She absolutely did make a good wife and made a good home for her husband. Susan never left her husband’s side when Dan took ill and cared for him at home, hardly ever leaving his bedside; which was why Sam keeps trying to fix me up with her. When we arrived at the ticket booth Susan was not at all pleased to see Marie on my arm. Susan was wearing a nice green dress knowing how much I like to see women in dresses.

The dress emphasized her voluptuous, buxom figure and long legs. She was also wearing her long red hair in a ponytail just as she wore it high school….the way I liked it then. Like the efficient organizer she is, Susan is prepared for anything. Although she packed a lunch for two, fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw and apple pie with sharp cheddar cheese for dessert; there was enough for six. It was sealed in Tupperware and packed in ice in a cooler. The traditional wicker picnic baskets were complete with china plates and cups, crystal glassware, her sterling silverware, condiments; including Tabasco Sauce for me; as is her way of being thoughtful.

Susan decorated the booth with blue and yellow crate paper and red and white balloons, the same theme as we did for the homecoming dance in high school when I was her date. She also brought a large plastic storage box full of string and twine, various kinds of tape, glue, a staple gun, extra pens and pencils. She brought magic markers, chalk, and paperclips, sticky labels, a label maker, scissors, name tags, etc. I’m sure that you get the picture.

It was an interesting afternoon, to say the least. We did sell or I should say the ladies sold the plethora of tickets, each trying to outsell one another. They were polite to one another, much like two cats circling a mouse (me) with their claws retracted. Marie complimented Susan on the wonderful lunch. It was a genuine compliment because everything Susan served us was delicious and exceptional. Susan accepted it as such and I knew she was pleased with the compliment despite the circumstances. There was a momentary truce while I was there; a time out that lasted for a few minutes after I left and then, game on.

An hour before the draft horse competition, which was delayed, Sam came over to ask me to help him with a temperamental and difficult horse that had thrown a shoe. Perfect! If I milked it I might be able to catch a good part of the competition and the girls seemed to be getting along fine. Perhaps my problem had solved itself and Susan finally received the message. Before I left I took Marie to one side and made her promise not to start anything.

Sam and I were standing alongside the judges, a privilege afforded to the attending vets or blacksmiths when we noticed people leaving their seats and rushing in the direction of the ticket booth. I stopped a couple of teenage boys and asked, “What’s going on?” The larger of the two replied, “There are two women fighting,” and then they were off like scalded cats to watch the fight.

Sam and I looked at one another and no doubt we were both thinking, “Oh shit!” We took off it that direction and when we arrived there was a crowd of people gathered in a circle watching them rolling around on the grass, fighting. “This is partly your fault, Dad,” I said, “You get Susan and I’ll get Marie,” and we waded in much to the disapproval to some in the gathered crowd. One big idiot grabbed the back of Sam’s jacket and tried to put him in a bear hug to stop him. The idiot learned the hard way; don’t mess with a man who pounds on anvils for a living. Before the idiot could shout, “Hey Rube” and before I could get there to help him Sam twisted around and hammered the idiot twice with his fists rearranging the idiots face before knocking him out. Sam and I stood back to back facing the crowd of people. We were silently daring anyone else to stop us, which they didn’t, and surprisingly the girls were still at it.

While we were separating the girls the volunteer firemen were breaking up the crowd and passing out complimentary tickets for rides on the modest midway. Afterward, Sam and I met with the Fire Chief Todd Barnes and a few of the Carneys. It turned out the idiot was a Carney, an employee of the traveling amusement show the Volunteer Fire Department brought in to supply the Midway Rides. It was agreed that their man was out of line and that was the end of it. Sam and I knew better. We threw one hundred dollars each into a hat to buy beer tickets for the 20 or so Carneys working the Midway. It was a goodwill gesture on our part and they could redeem the tickets at the Fireman’s beer tent after hours.

But getting back to the girls…they were a mess. Torn clothing and covered in dirt and grass stains. They both got their licks in though. Once we separated them we brought them to the fire hall and made them sit in different rooms with a cold pack for the EMT to tend to them. Susan had a fat lip and was crying while Marie had a black eye and wasn’t crying. Susan wouldn’t even talk to me after and slapped my face; no doubt I had it coming for my poor judgment in bringing Marie to sell tickets.

Sam:

I SURE MESSED THINGS UP FOR MY SON-IN-LAW. I love Patrick like a son. He tried to explain things to Susan and got slapped hard in the face for his apology.
I imagine Patrick thought he had it coming because he didn’t try and stop her.
I should have told Susan right out that it was my idea about selling tickets and that Patrick didn’t know anything about it. Patrick didn’t want me to look bad and went along with my stupidity hoping for the best. But hot damn that Marie is a scrapper and Susan is no slouch either.

Although they’re the same height and given her full figure, Susan is outweighs Marie by a good twenty five pounds. Apparently ultimatums don’t sit well with Marie and I still contend Susan is a good match for him. Obviously that’s not going to happen. What a lucky bastard he is having two women fighting over him and I still can’t get over my daughter’s mare taking to Marie like that.

Patrick shows up with her out of the blue and won’t tell me a thing about her except that he met Marie in New York City. Something special must have happened between them because Patrick looks at her like he always looked at my Anne Marie. She better not break Patrick’s heart though or she will have an account to settle here with me; or in the afterlife with my dear departed wife Mary, or my daughter Anne Marie. Anne Marie’s mama was a medicine woman and if Marie does break his heart, Mary may find a way to settle that broken heart account before then. It’s in her blood. Well, it is time for me to face the music.

Marie:

I CAN’T BELIEVE THE NERVE OF THAT WOMAN! Her entire demeanor changed after Patrick left. Susan deliberately kept bumping into me. I tried to keep my temper for Patrick’s sake and I stepped out of the booth to give her room. When Susan followed me out of the booth and then gave me an ultimatum to step aside and get out of her way, I laughed in her face.

There was a shouting match. At least I didn’t curse or swear at her and interestingly enough neither did she. Patrick will have to give me that.
Susan tried shoving me to the ground so I grabbed her ponytail and it was game on. We were rolling on the ground, punching one another and the next thing I knew Sam and Patrick were breaking us up. Susan is one tough cookie and in different circumstances I can learn to like the woman. I hope Patrick isn’t too angry.

Patrick explained he will gently tell Susan about our love in his own way because he cares for Susan as a good friend. I already told her in mine way because she asked for it. I tried to avoid trouble. In any event Patrick is mine. I have him and Susan doesn’t. He has to be angry, though. After the EMT left and he was satisfied I was all right, Patrick didn’t kiss me or anything. He went to check on Susan and didn’t look happy at all when he came back.

I overheard Sam punched somebody out and he and Patrick met with the Fire Chief and the Carnival people. I only picked up bits and pieces because Patrick told me to stay put and keep the ice pack on. After the meeting I wasn’t given the particulars. They did something to smooth things over and Sam stayed to help Susan in the ticket booth. We then quietly walked to the truck and Patrick helped me in. He gave me a funny look, asking, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Blue Knight but we need to talk about……” he interrupted me “Not now Ms. Bernardino,” I was thinking, “He is angry.” “We can talk about it when we get home, Marie, however until then not another word.” Patrick played the radio all the way home looking straight ahead. Earlier in the day he couldn’t keep his hands off of me. Boy was I in trouble. I should have left when Susan started bumping into me. We really caused a scene and I suppose I can’t blame him for being angry.

When we pulled into the driveway and he put the truck in park and shut the engine off I waited to see if he would help me out and he did offering me his hand saying, “I’m going to check on the horses,” and he walked away. “Patrick please let me explain.” I started walking after him and still no answer. “Patrick, please, Susan started it!” still no answer, “Are you teasing me? Did you hear me?” I asked rushing past him to get in front. I put my hand on his chest stopping him and only because he allowed me to. “Are you angry with me?” He closed his eyes, sighed, and opened them. He took my hands, kissed them and held them gently his strong callused ones. “I’m angry with myself. I should have handled the entire situation differently. I’m disappointed you didn’t leave to get me when Susan got pushy. I have to tell you, Marie, I still care about Susan in my own way. She is basically a very good person. Susan is not your competition. I am not interested in Susan that way. That’s ancient history……..period.”

Patrick pulled me close and put my hand over his heart and held it there and I was thinking, ‘Did he just say he loves me?’ and Patrick continued, “I’m not one for flowery speeches and I offer no love sonnets,” he kissed me, his hot lips scorching mine, “All I can do is show you. Go into the house and put another ice pack on your eye. It really doesn’t look to bad now so let’s keep it that way. I will be in shortly and then we will grill some steaks.”

Patrick:

WHEN I FINISHED WITH THE HORSES, I got my grill out and started a fire with oak and apple wood. They will burn down into fragrant cooking coals. I put a dozen roasting potatoes wrapped in foil in the far corner of the grill to get them started. It will take a good hour to get a bed of coals for the steaks. I planned on having my dessert before supper. I found my Marie in the kitchen standing at the counter preparing homemade Italian dressing for a tossed salad. She must have showered because her hair was wet and combed straight back and tucked partially behind her ears and she did have quite a shiner now.

She was wearing a simple long yellow house dress without a bra underneath. Perfect. I put my arms around her waist shifting one hand to rub her ass to see if she was wearing panties. Nope. Perfect again so I pushed her hair to the side and kissed the back of her neck nuzzling it with my face. Marie is wise to my tricks now. She turned around and offered me a taste from the spoon before I could put my finger in the bowl, “What do you think?” She asked, “Does it need more garlic?”

“No, it is perfect,” I answered, “The fire will be ready in about an hour and I will put the porterhouse steaks on. How do you want yours cooked?” “Medium rare will be fine. I’m glad you’re not angry me and I’m not wearing panties either.” “Was I that obvious?” I asked, kissing her luscious lips.” “Perfectly obvious,” Marie answered, returning my kisses, “I’ve been going through the cupboards and we need to go grocery shopping. I want you to taste my sauce.” “Outstanding and I will taste your sauce momentarily; any objections?” “Not that kind of sauce,” she said laughing.

“You said you want me to taste your sauce…. Marie’s sauce…..what other kind of sauce is there?” “I meant tomato sauce and you know it, so stop being obtuse.” “What, you have tomato sauce down there? Won’t that be messy? It will stain the sheets. What if I get tomato sauce in my eye brows? How undignified,” And then I waved my hand as if dismissing the silly notion while keeping a straight face, “And I won’t stop, I love squeezing your little caboose.”

Marie started mussing my hair vigorously and laughed, “You are impossible, Patrick. Do you know that? Do you? You can be so stern and unyielding and then so silly. That is why I love you.”

Marie:

‘OF COURSE I LOVE YOU MY BLUE KNIGHT,’ I was thinking ‘How can I not? Next to my father you are the least passive aggressive man that I have ever met and the most truthful. You don’t hide behind disingenuous words and fancy talk and you told me straight up about Susan, too. I have to admit that I am a little bit afraid of you, though. Or is it respect? Make it both. What you see is what you get,” therefore I asked, “Do you have anything to say to me, Patrick?”

“Yes, your eye looks terrible.” “Thank you, anything else?” I asked. “Yes Marie.
You look lovely in that dress.” “Anything else you want to tell me?” I continued asking while tugging on his hair. “Yes, you are hot and sexy” he answered. “You are getting warm, please continue, Blue Knight.” “This is the best Italian dressing that I have ever tasted…ouch.” “You are impossible, Mr. Buchanan,” I said, kissing his lips. Patrick then lifted my dress and started rubbing my pussy with his hand, “Tell me my sexy lady, do you want me to lick and suck your plump pussy, or do you want to make love?” Not answering I took my dress completely off and dropped it to the kitchen floor.

Patrick:

MARIE TOLD ME THAT SHE LOVED ME. I knew she did. I picked her up and carried my darling Marie, who felt as light as a feather into the bedroom where I put her gently on our bed. I put a pillow underneath her shapely ass and spread her legs. I started kissing and licking Marie’s beautiful rounds breasts until I could smell the sweet moistness between her legs. Marie’s moans and deep breathing were like music to my ears. I’m somewhat humbled by it, actually. It is nice Marie can be herself with me. I went down on her licking and sucking while probing her clitoris with my tongue.

Marie’s hands were in my hair, pushing my head against her dripping pussy while verbally urging me on. I felt her swollen clitoris pulsating against my tongue as if it had a life of its own. She was moaning softly and rocking her hips from side to side. Marie tasted delicious…..vanilla spice delicious. Performing oral sex on a woman is something I enjoy greatly. I don’t understand why so many men distain it. They obviously don’t know what they were missing or how much women enjoy it. Many married women deny their husbands oral sex and the disdainers can’t understand why. They just accept it or make jokes about it such as, “The minute I said I do, she didn’t”…the dopes.

Marie’s orgasm came in waves with her sweet juices covering my face as I licked like mad and held her in place to keep her from sliding off the bed. Afterward I lay down next to her and began playing with her hard nipples as she lay stretched out on her back.

She ran her fingers through her own hair and was frowning thoughtfully. “Thank you, Marie,” I said, “Yours is the best tasting Italian dressing I’ve ever had.” Smiling, Marie rolled over and hugged me kissing my face over and over. This is when I accidently found out that she is ticklish. I held her down and tickled her until she was practically begging me to stop.

Marie:

WHILE I WAS KISSING AND HUGGING him I was thinking, “Patrick is so wonderfully impossible that I can hardly believe it. He used his tongue like a conductor directing an orchestra. He did everything right and my orgasms were fabulous and out of this world. I was ready for more when Patrick stood up and thanked me. But then he started playfully tickling me and I was almost breathless from laughing and shrieking happily before he stopped. He then excused himself to check and see if the grill was ready for the steaks, leaving me in a content, happy flutter on our bed….our bed…my Patrick. I have the rest of my life with him. What I really can’t believe is Patrick enjoys eating me out as much as I like sucking on his big cock. You can’t fake that kind of enthusiasm.

I got dressed and set the table for before I joined him outside where he was grilling the thick porterhouse steaks. Patrick was sipping a bottle of Yuengling Lager. He smiled and handed me my own bottle and I took a sip. I then gave his ass a pinch, “That is for tickling me. When will the steaks be ready?” “They will be ready in another five minutes. The baked potatoes are done and I made enough to slice up for fried potatoes for at least two meals and look,” he lifted the cover to show me, “I am roasting some jalapeño peppers for my hot and spicy lady. Just add a tossed salad to the meal and it doesn’t get better than this?”

“Yes it does. Dessert, sweetheart,” I answered, “I’m going to taste you after I take you out for ice cream at the Upstate Dairy Store we passed on the way home. It will be my treat if you’ll loan me a twenty until I can get to an ATM,” I put my arms around his neck and kissed him, “Please, sweetheart.” “As you command, my Queen, as you command.”

We were having a very cozy little dinner on the picnic table at the back of the house under the awning when the doorbell rang Patrick ignored it and made no attempt to get up and answer the door. It rang again. “It’s probably for you, my love,” he said, smiling. Puzzled I got up and walked around the house to see who was at the front door. There was a young man standing there and his Florist Delivery Van was parked in our driveway. “I have a delivery for a Marie Antoinette Bernardino. Will you sign for it, Ma’am?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said, adding, “I don’t have cash to tip……“Oh no, Ma’am” he interrupted “the tip has already been paid.” I returned to the picnic table with 3 dozen long stem lavender roses. They are my favorite flower by far. “Goodness gracious Marie someone sent you flowers! You must have a secret admirer” Patrick commented cutting his steak. “How did you know lavender roses are my favorite and are you familiar with the mystique associated with them?”

“Yes my Queen, as a matter of fact I am. Most women prefer red roses because red roses are popular and heavily promoted as the most desirable. They are also the most abundant and most common. You are not most women, you are my Marie. It is well known that purple is the color of royalty, my Queen. Many believe that the lavender rose is a sign of enchantment and love at first sight. It is often said that those who have been enraptured by feelings of love and adoration have given lavender roses to express their romantic feelings and intentions.”

“I thought you didn’t know poetry or sonnets” and I hugged him as tight as I could, “Thank you for the beautiful flowers.” “Was that poetry? Doesn’t poetry have to rhyme and is a sonnet another name for a sun bonnet?” He asked while keeping a poker face.” Will you please pass the salt?”

I wasn’t fooled Patrick’s eyes give him away. His eyes were saying I love you Marie. After dinner we listened to music while doing the dishes. Patrick washed and I dried. He pulled me away from the sink three times to dance with me.
After the dishes were done we danced into the bedroom for me to get ready. We then danced out to his truck, turning lights off and locking the doors on the way out…………it must be the lavender roses.

I snuggled up close to Patrick in the truck and held his hand while we drove to get our ice cream. I was a woman in love; rescued from the ogress Clara and caught up in a whirlwind romance that figuratively and literally sweep me off my feet. When we arrived I didn’t care what anyone thought when we acted like teenagers even though both of us are adults in our thirties. We ordered our ice cream in a large dish sharing. I ordered a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of strawberry while Patrick chose maple walnut and butter pecan. We sat outside on the tailgate of his pickup; tasting and sharing maple walnut, chocolate, strawberry and butter pecan flavored kisses.

I noticed that Patrick likes to drive on all the back roads. Perfect. I’ve never done anything like this before, but this was a big roomy truck; in for a dime in for a dollar as they say.

Patrick:

WHILE WE WERE DRIVING HOME FROM THE DAIRY STORE, Marie surprised me when she exclaimed “Stop the truck, pull over there!” “Is something wrong?” I asked, pulling over and putting the transmission into PARK. “No, everything is perfectly wonderful and I love you.” Marie replied leaning over to kiss me. I was starting to catch on. Marie turned the key shutting the engine off. “It’s dark out. There’s nobody around and I want to suck on your cock. But first I want to neck. We haven’t done that yet.” I started the truck again and started driving away explaining “Up the road to the left is the Power Company’s access right of way which intersects with an abandoned road that runs along the creek. The abandoned road is overgrown but is a wonderful ride on horseback. I’ve cleared out most of the brush on the west side of the old stone bridge foundation. My great-great-grandfather helped build that bridge. The county shut the bridge down in 1920, it being unsuited for trucks and autos. We will park there out of sight and out of mind.”

“Did you ride there often with your wife, sweetheart?” “Yes, I had an arrangement with a now defunct riding stable whose pastures and trails adjoin or cross it. We bartered our services although I’ve never owned a horse of my own aside from a steel one. Anne taught me how to ride. No horse took to me like White Cloud with Anne or with you.”

“But I have seen you feed and pet her, Patrick. You own her.” “That’s true, and I have ridden White Cloud, Marie, but only one time since Anne died. The grand old lady’s heart isn’t in it. Yes, legally I own her. On the other hand and philosophically speaking; some will say White Cloud is her own sentient being with feelings and a soul. I don’t buy the scientific theories promoting animal behavior as purely instinctual. I base my opinion on my experience with horses and dogs. My little female beagle, Brandy, blew those cold clinical theories out of the water and now there is you and White Cloud.”
“I never had a dog growing up in the City. There was no room in our apartment. Was Brandy your only dog?” I asked, squeezing his hand. “There is only one Brandy and yes. Brandy died before I went into the Service. There are a series of big bumps coming up. Now, as I was saying; take material possessions for example and my land in particular. When I am dead and gone the land will remain. I am merely borrowing it for awhile as with everything I own. Others will say, “Do we really own things or do they own us”? It is also said that you can’t take it with you. I disagree. Love transcends all my beautiful Marie.”

Marie:

AS WE TRAVERSED THE ROCK STREWN ROAD riddled with ruts, I was thinking, ‘I have fallen in love with a philosopher knight and to think the Ogress Clara called Patrick a hayseed?” When we finally parked it was obvious even in the dark what a beautiful little spot this was. It was quiet and peaceful, enhanced by the sound of water splashing and gurgling over the rocks in the creek bed. It was a warm and balmy night with the lilac bushes growing along the bank in full bloom. We put the widows down to catch the fragrant lilac scented breeze. Being here with Patrick is so different from my life in the City. Even when seemingly alone in Central Park, you are surrounded by multitudes of people. This is now our special place; secluded, cozy and safe.

Patrick turned to me and gently took my face in his strong, callused hands to kiss my lips, “I love you, Marie,” he said softly, holding my face, “I love you more than words can describe,” and he kissed me again. As far as I was concerned, those kisses should go on forever, “I am truly blessed to have found you my Queen.”

‘No, my love,’ I thought, ‘I’m the one who is blessed for I am a changed woman. My money and my possessions owned me. I was proud and I was selfish and I was hell bent on self destructive revenge to get even for what the Jerk did to me.
I haven’t spoken with my parents in almost a year and I’m ashamed to admit it. You make me feel like I’m an eighteen year old girl again my Blue Knight, my Patrick. You have reminded me who I really am. I’m sorry Mom and Dad and I’m going to make it up to both of you. Patrick confided to me his biggest regret in life is never having children and what a father he will make. You are right my dear parents; family is everything that matters.”

Patrick held me close as we kissed, running his fingers through my hair. They were warm kisses, gentle, passionate kisses, no hurry kisses. We had all the time in the world and the night belonged to us. I heard his heart beating and it was beating only for me. Patrick felt so warm and solid as he held me, stroking my hair and rubbing my back. There was no need for words; the creek’s soothing music and Patrick’s beating heart are the only symphony of love I needed.

Patrick:

THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SPOTS IN THE WORLD. I hid out here as a boy when I was angry with my father or to get out of the cow barns. During the summer I disappeared for days on end like Huckleberry Finn or Tom Sawyer on the Mississippi River. After mom died I drove my Dad frantic with worry and I was grounded almost continuously when not in school. Corporal punishment or grounding didn’t faze me one bit and I never gave up my hiding place. This same creek runs through our property; however the old stone bridge was my private castle. It was my place to get away where I let my imagination soar in books. “Robin Hood” by Roger L. Green, “Ivanhoe” by Sir Walter Scott, and I loved all the original “Conan the Barbarian” stories by Robert E. Howard. I read everything by Edgar Rice Burroughs.

I was intrigued by “The Once and Future King” by T. H. White and I am still fascinated by Tolkien. I climbed up under the bridge foundation and settled into a hollow crevice I reinforced with heavy boards to recline out of sight to hide or to read. I had candles and flashlights as needed plus my sleeping bag.

My adventures for the day were contingent on what book I was reading. I ran up and down the creek bank fighting evil black knights and killed fire breathing dragons with my stick sword. I wrested pretend crocodiles in the creek like Tarzan and killed them with my knife; a real one. It was a fixed blade Buck knife. A word of advice; never swim like Tarzan with a sharp knife in your teeth. I still have the scar on my tongue for that stupidity.

I even possessed my own magic gold ring that I always wore around my neck on a chain. It was my ring of invisibility and it kept me safe from harm and discovery and it worked because my hiding place was never found. Unlike the one ring to rule them all and in darkness bind them, from “The Lord of the Rings” by Tolkien, mine was a ring with a mother’s love forged into it. It was my mother’s plain gold wedding band….Mom died when I was nine years old. Dad never remarried and I assumed wrongly that that fate would be the same after my wife died.

Marie:

“DO YOU STILL WANT YOUR COCK SUCKED ON SWEETHEART?” I asked knowing that he did. Patrick was so good by patiently waiting. Nevertheless I felt his erection straining against his jeans the whole time we were there.

“Do I have to talk dirty?” He asked. “Not if you don’t want too,” I answered pulling his zipper down, “Just get comfortable and enjoy.” “I can smell your sex, Marie, my horny little bitch. You are wet between your legs. You are a wet and willing hot little number. Just remember you are mine now. If you are a good l will reward you with a good hard fucking.” “I love it when you talk dirty to me,” I cooed kissing his stomach.

Patrick opened his door and we switched sides. He took his jeans and boxers off before he got back in. I slid over and lay down on my stomach the long way across the seat with my feet hanging out the driver’s door. He got comfortable by leaning up against the passenger door and waited for me to start. I couldn’t wait to suck on his big cock. Patrick wasn’t the only person that was horny.

I started by kissing and licking his stomach, working my way towards his cock. It was standing at attention for me, patiently waiting to be licked and sucked. I started licking the base of his cock then moved to the tip, rolling my tongue around there. I had my love squirming in the seat as he played with my hair.

I continued to lick and suck, his hands buried in my hair, taking his cock deeper into my mouth, anticipating when he would flood my mouth with his luscious seed. I teased him; bringing him to the brink of sweet release and then backing off. I did this several times until he growled, “Enough,” He then took control of me by my hair, setting the cadence.

“Enough teasing, little bitch, lick and suck and you will swallow it all.” I love it when he talks dirty. Patrick’s breathing increased, becoming deep steady breathes and he was making a low noise in his throat, a low deep primal growl that turns me on so much. I was squeezing my legs together, pushing my pussy against the truck seat, trying to stimulate myself. I wanted to come so bad.

I tried sticking my hand into my blue jeans to get to my pussy. Patrick slapped my ass with his hand and it stung even through my clothes, “Enough of that, Marie, that’s my job. You will behave and wait.” Of course I will wait. Patrick is the first man since my father who can actually handle me. He will make me behave and I loved it thinking ‘A spanking now and that might be just what I need followed of course by a good fucking afterward?”

My thoughts were pushed aside by another of his thunderous orgasms releasing a deluge of hot creamy cum into my mouth. He pulled out slightly so that I wouldn’t choke and as before it was a delicious relentless torrent of semen for me to swallow. I was almost overwhelmed by his onslaught of creamy semen as my first little orgasm washed over me.

I got up to kiss him but Patrick got out of the truck and said, “Thank you, Marie.” I watched him run off into the bushes taking off his shirt and dropping it. Now he was completely naked. I got out of the truck smiling and was thinking, ‘Life with my Blue Knight will be anything but boring’ and I undressed and followed him into the water, or so I thought.

Patrick:

I QUIETLY CIRCLED BACK AND FOLLOWED MARIE DOWN TO THE WATER. As I hoped she was completely naked and waiting for me there. My lover’s trim figure delighted my eyes was faintly silhouetted on the water by the dim mellow moonlight light from the almost full moon. In my imagination I saw Marie as one of the mythical Naiads, a fresh water nymph wading in the shallow water near the shore. My heart pounded in my chest with enraptured love for Marie, pounding so loud I was certain that she could hear me coming and will return to the water whence she came.
Marie:

IT WAS A MYSTICAL NIGHT AS I WADED IN THE SHALLOW water along the banks of the creek. The light from the moon caressed my naked form and I felt as if I was almost part of nature. It was an odd but lovely thought; me, a horny water sprite. I was already wet and aroused between my legs and I imagined that Patrick can smell my woman’s scent as I was looking and listening for him while stroking my breasts and getting hornier by the minute. I knew what was to come; a good hard fucking as only he can do it. Patrick appeared quietly out of nowhere with his hands around my waist, nuzzling and kissing my cheek, his rock hard cock pressing against me.

I reached back with my hand and touched his face. “I’ve been good,” I said, taking his hands and squeezing them. “No you haven’t. You have been wonderfully sexy and naughty stroking your beautiful breasts by your creek my little Naiad. I can smell you from a distance and now you can’t get away. You will have to grant me one wish.” “Is a Naiad like a water sprite?” I asked. “A Naiad is a fresh water nymph and cousin to the tree nymph. They are much larger and sexier than a water spirit,” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me to face him. He then took my hand and we walked out of the water to the soft grass of the creek bank.

I put my arms around his neck and kissed his lips long and deep, “You have your fairytale creatures mixed up Patrick. Genies grant wishes.” “You have already granted me two of my wishes,” he replied, pulling me tight into him and returning my kisses. “One, you have agreed to stay and two you love me. Three and four will come in time. I am content to wait,” he said, pulling me down into the grass next to him. “Get on your hands and knees, Marie and brace yourself.”

Straddling my dripping and welcoming pussy with his cock, Patrick then leaned forward until his face was close to mine and kissed my cheek, “Please and thank you, my love,” he said as he entered me, pushing slowly, making me gasp and moan while stretching my cunt until I could feel his balls caressing me. As before Patrick’s huge cock filled my entire uterus and I started to orgasm immediately, moaning and squirming from side-to-side when he suddenly pulled out and slapped my ass, sharply,” Not yet, Marie.”

He lightly slapped my pussy while he stroked my clitoris with his fingers until I was literally begging him to fuck me. Patrick started fucking me slowly, his huge cocking ravishing me in and out, in and out and bringing me to the brink several times before I was allowed my first little orgasm. Just as it peaked his thrusting becoming more forceful and his cock seemed even bigger and harder. Amazed, I felt the beginning of another orgasm building. Patrick was spanking my ass just hard enough to sting and enhancing our love making. He timed his orgasm with mine.

I was overwhelmed as my massive orgasm burned though me like gasoline added to an already blazing fire. I moaned and swore and for the life of me I don’t remember what I said. Patrick was pulling my hair as he pounded with the deep intake of his breathing and the deep growl in his throat that was so Patrick, the Patrick I loved.

Perhaps he is a little rough and wild but I like it and silently encourage him to fuck me this way; as I silently encourage soft and gentle under cool clean sheets. We are becoming attuned to each other in more ways I ever thought possible.

Until now I’ve never made love to a man outside in the grass. Afterward, we lay there not talking and he held me. I was thinking about my mother and father started crying. They were happy tears and he intuitively knew it. Patrick continued to hold me and stroke my hair.

Patrick:

I’VE NOTICED THAT MARIE likes it a little rough and that is good because sometimes I get a little carried away in my pre-orgasmic passion. I’ve also noticed how aroused she gets when I pull her hair while I bang her; or when I spank her ass and pussy. I absolutely adore Marie when she moans and pants, squirms and swears. There is nothing intimidating about that at all. Wow, talk about an ego booster! There is nothing like making love in the grass at night, it is so wild and primal. Afterward, I held her and stroked her hair. Not so much to comfort Marie because I knew they were happy tears and I love her.

Marie:

AFTER MY SMALL HAPPY CRY, we dressed and Patrick wrapped us up the large quilt he keeps in the truck. We sat in the grass and talked and shared stories. He had me laughing about killing dragons with a stick and I got a look at his soul when he was a young boy, so I shared my story about my mom; something I never shared with my ex-husband.

I told Patrick about the special time I spent with my Mother. Mom still acts in the community theatre and after a performance that is where she first met my father. Dad was hired to do the plumbing work in the restored theatre while Mom was rehearsing and he returned after to watch the play.

When I was old enough I helped Mom rehearse her lines and eventually I had my own small parts or walk on parts in the small and mostly adult theatre productions. Dad helped with the props and the lights. He joked that he can’t carry a tune in a bucket, although he bragged about carrying his acting skills in a thimble in his pocket.

I also took voice and singing lessons from Mom and we sang together on Sunday in our church choir during mass. In high school I really got involved with all the school plays and in my senior year I played the star role as Maria from the musical “The Sound of Music”. That was followed by the same part in Mom’s theatre group, the pinnacle of my acting career to both my parents’ delight. Mom was the Mother Superior. Mom and we rehearsed our parts with a passion and then we would laugh and talk afterward. She was sad that I would be attending college in the fall and living on campus.

In retrospect, my Mother is far more talented in singing or acting that I can ever hope to be. Mom stole the show and out shined everyone when she sang “Climb Every Mountain”, although I did quite well by coming in a close second from the reviews in the entertainment section in the newspaper. Dad told me afterwards that he never heard Mom sing with such heartfelt passion and love. Mom sang that song “Climb Every Mountain” for me, Marie Antoinette, not the character, Maria. I am my Mother’s pride and joy and her inspiration. When I shared this with him he said this was a precious song between mother and daughter. He said it is a spiritual gift that transcends all”.

Mom could have gone places beyond community theatre. She took a sabbatical after I was born. During the first five years of my life to until I entered school, Mom’s entire world was me. I could read when I was three. I entered I kindergarten reading at a third grade level. I was able to express myself with a vocabulary that was unusually large for my age.

My drawings and paintings were displayed in every room of our small apartment and then saved in a leather portfolio to make room for new ones. My real talent is painting and drawing; something my mother nurtured and encouraged. In my early years, my days belonged to my mother and in the evenings my father.
It broke their hearts when I dropped out of college.

Patrick was exhausted when we got home. I must have worn him out with the eventful day we had. He went to bed while I checked on the horses before locking up for the night. Afterward, I went into the kitchen and telephoned my parents. I lost all track of the time talking with Mom. This was the first time in our life that we talked as equals. We both had a good cry, talked some more and then had another cry. Mom is intrigued about the fact that Patrick is a sometimes farmer and a fulltime blacksmith/machinist. She wanted to attend one of his reenactments when I told her that he was part actor and had to stay in character and period dressed the whole time the public was there.

As I said, I lost all track of time and was still talking at six o’clock the next morning. While I was talking to Dad, Patrick walked into the kitchen fully dressed.
He leaned over and kissed my cheek. Dad tends to have a loud telephone voice and when he talks, his voice carries. While Patrick was making the coffee he must have heard some of the comments Dad made about him and not being good enough for me and other things like that. Patrick brought me a cup of coffee and was grinning from ear to ear as he took the telephone away from me.

“Good morning, Mr. Bernardino. This is Patrick Ian Buchanan, the huckleberry hayseed hillbilly hay bailing hick from Hooterville and I’m looking forward to meeting you too………..Mr. Bernardino I’m not listening in on another line. You’re a loudmouth and your voice carries. What did I ever do to you to make you talk about me like this; we’ve never even met. When Marie and I visit in 3 weeks, you and I are going to have an accounting for your disparaging insults and comments.

I sat there, stunned. Nobody dares to talk to my Dad like this and Patrick was calm, collect and reasonable; sipping his coffee while they spoke…….“No, Mr. Bernardino you have no expectations of privacy unless you speak quietly…… …..Yes, I know you are Marie’s father……….Is that what you think? Really……… you don’t say………..oh, you do say……well, you’re not my father Mr. Bernardino so don’t lecture me about respect. My father taught me to respect older men only if they deserve it……….You think so, do you………..you’re going to clean my clock? Is that a side line, cleaning and repairing clocks? I was told you’re a plumber……oh, that kind of clock cleaning; you want a piece of me and you’re going to beat me to a pulp; good luck with that and be sure to bring plenty of help …………..stop beating up your telephone on the table; what did it every do to you?………. Such language………..is this any way to talk to your future son-in………..

You forbid me to see Marie? That’s a foregone conclusion, I assure you……….No I’m not an expletive dilative, expletive dilative chicken farmer; I’m a blacksmith and machinist with a sideline who knows how to farm…….. Stop shouting at me and use your indoor voice………….Oh, this is your indoor voice……….You’re quite the tough guy from a distance……….there, see, you’re beating up your telephone again……………………….is this the best you can do? You curse like a girl. As a matter of fact, Marie curses better than you do…………………………..if you insist on cursing in Italian please have the courtesy to translate I’d like to learn some new words…………

My father taught me not to swear in front of women and children so I hope Mrs. Bernardino is not in the room at the moment……….is that a fact; what did your father teach you?……………Goodbye, Mr. Mr. Bernardino, see you soon.”

Patrick handed me the telephone before walking out the back door off the kitchen with his second cup of coffee to leave me to deal with my now irate father.

To be continued in Chapter 3.

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