Chapter 29 - Callie
I opened my eyes and marveled that the sun in Ireland looked exactly as ours did back in Kentucky. Due to the time difference, I felt like it was early morning, but there in the cottage it was already early afternoon. I slid from the featherbed and into the bathroom, running myself a hot bath in the claw-footed tub and soaking until my toes looked like the old woman apple dolls they made at home. I climbed out, wrapped myself in a thick towel, and peeped out the bathroom door.
Lying on our bed, stark naked, was Michael. He was completely awake, and more to the point, burgeoning and erect, waiting for me.
"Drop the towel," he ordered, and blushing, I did as he asked. "Turn around," he added, and again, I obliged. "Good God, I can't believe I had to cross the Atlantic Ocean to see something this beautiful." He wagged his finger and I leapt onto the bed and kissed him. His hand travelled down the front of me and touched my pussy, his index finger delving deeply inside like a divining rod looking for water. I knew I was wet, despite the cleansing heat of the bath I'd just taken.
Michael's mouth was upon me then, licking the tender flesh and darting his tongue inside of me. "You taste so good," he murmured, and suddenly I was overcome with the desire to taste him, too.
I pushed Michael to the side, and with my hands to guide the way, I took his penis into my mouth, careful not to bite him. I heard him groan with pleasure, and it made me salivate. Cupping his balls with one hand, I slid my mouth up and down his shaft, sucking and flicking my tongue over its length. Tiny droplets form at its tip, and I licked these off, forcing him to watch my tongue. "Look at me!" I ordered, and it must have given him a huge erotic push as he became my slave. I brought him to the edge of orgasm and then blew soft, cool air over him to pull him back slightly. My index finger trailed his backside crack and then pressed him just below his balls. I knew it must have had the desired effect, because his erection tightened and beckoned to my mouth again.
I repeated this cycle several times until finally, he could take it no longer. "Lay down!" he ordered me gruffly, and then, with a moment's hesitation, he plunged into me and a cry came from his throat I'd never heard before. He was in the throes of delayed passion. It made him hammer me harder and faster than he had so many years before. His hands were on my breasts, his fingers tweaking my nipples. He rode me as I'd fantasized riding a horse; naked and with Michael's cock buried beneath me as we galloped aimlessly, not stopping until we'd both found our pleasure.
I felt mine rising and called his name. "Michael... Michael... it's coming..."
"I know, lassie, I know. Hold off as long as you can, it makes it better." He continued to pound me like a machine gun, stimulating my clit, and suddenly I couldn't hold it back. "Hold your breath," he urged and some subconscious part of me obeyed. It was like lighting a firecracker to the already explosive burst of colors and fire that were consuming my brain.
"Oh, my God," I breathed out. He wouldn't relent, but brought me to orgasm three quick times in succession.
When finally he withdrew, we were both covered in our juices. I lay there panting and Michael rolled to my side, using his finger to trace the contours of my body. "How was I ever so lucky as to have you?"
"That goes both ways, you know."
That was the beginning of seven days and seven nights that were filled with eating, drinking, sight-seeing and making love - in no particular order. The rest of the world had disappeared and left Michael and I abandoned on a shore with only each other for entertainment. I was so relaxed and so, so much in love. I didn't think life could get any better than it was in that very moment.
It was with a keen regret that we boarded our jet and returned to Louisville. The ride home to the farm was solemn and quiet as we both contemplated the busy schedule ahead of us. We were experiencing that quasi-mourning one has when the vacation is over and you don't want to go back to the routine.
In our absence, all my things had been moved into Michael's room, which I was surprised to find was more than twice the size of my own. It had a separate sitting room with fireplace where we began a ritual of drinking coffee together each morning and discussing the upcoming day. Once we left our room, the world and our schedules grabbed at us like so many hungry birds, each pecking for a piece. It took some adjustment, but it was what we both had wanted.
When people asked how our honeymoon had gone, we embarrassedly looked at one another for words. You couldn't tell people that you'd spent the entire time in bed, sucking at one another's tender flesh. Well, maybe you could, but not me. I was and would always be on the timid side when it came to public affection. Behind our closed door, however, we unleashed everything we knew and had read about. Michael brought home a book he'd bought that showed us sexual positions. One by one, we tried each, and more often than not we collapsed on the bed laughing at the intricate and demanding flexibility these positions required.
Michael bought something he called a tantra chair and placed it at the foot of our bed. He explained it was sculpted in a way to support the human body and expose the sensitive areas at the same time. I found myself with my legs in the air and Michael penetrating me while standing at the head of the chair's curve. Sometimes it was erotic and urged us on to more experimentation, while other times it seemed silly and we opted for our mattress and the conventional ways. One particular night, I was on the chair and Michael was holding out an instruction book, trying to mimic the illustration. He turned the page and found the drawing I'd penciled in that showed a stallion and a mare, trying to hook up over the curves of a massive tantra chair. He'd laughed so hard that the rest of the night was a no-go and he made me swear never to sabotage him that way again.
Life was wonderful, but the challenge I dreaded the most and yet looked forward to lay just ahead. I was to jockey Jewel at Churchill Downs. We hadn't qualified with enough races to run the Derby itself, but that, too, would come in later years. For now, I was riding on perhaps the most famous track on the planet. It was my dream come true.