Chapter 18. MAGIC WAND
Summer in NYC is always fun and full of street fairs, rooftop dining, Central Park, and art openings. Dick and I subscribe to “hot time, summer in the city,” as the lyrics go, and keep busy through June, July and August with an endless list of adventures. All quite hot, if you catch my drift.
That summer, our concession to friends who escaped city streets during the summer months was to accept an invite to spend July 4th weekend in the Hamptons at the beach. Convertible top down, sun on our faces, we crossed the Queens Midtown Bridge and sped down the Long Island Expressway, crossing to the Montauk Highway in Hampton Bays for the last few miles. Along the way we stopped at a roadside farm stand to bring a cornucopia of locally grown tomatoes, corn, cantaloupes, blueberries, and cherries, and several limes to garnish Dick’s gin.
I love the seaside and lounging in my bikini from morning to evening. On the sand, by the pool, the most I covered up that weekend was with a batik serape during happy hour on the deck. We spent the days reading, napping, and walking the shore line searching for sea glass, foamy waves lapping at our toes. Before dinner and after a cool shower to rinse the salt water from my hair, Dick and I met between the sheets for a rendezvous with passion.
“Magical.” I whispered as his magic wand slid between my legs. I stretched to grasp his balls, the liquid orbs floating between my fingers. The length of him slid up my thigh, already creamy wet. Greedily, I raised my hips, drawing him into me. Slow and steady, Dick ravished me. He moved with deliberate strokes, a measured rhythm up and back, in and out. Oh, oh, the dome of his magic scepter at the edge of my wizard’s sleeve. Almost pulling out, but no, the head of his wand rubbed against my love button. Then in, up, further, then down, through, oh, oh, out? No! Romancing my pearl, again, again. Torture! Delight! Frenzy! Release!
And then he pounded. He pulsated, he ground, he mashed and finessed my cream to his full advantage. Then he soared, and poured into me, decanting his elixir deep into my grotto.
“Yikes!” I exclaimed, and raised my legs high into the air in a V, exposing my mound to cool air, “Blow, blow! Hot! Cool!” I could barely make sense in my desperation to aerate and sooth my hot lady parts.
Dick leaned forward, wearing a perplexed expression as he tried to figure out what I was begging for. He blew gently on my crotch, barely enough to make a candle flicker, then looked to me for confirmation.
“Yes! More! Blow!” I shouted. He blew, this time with the vitality to puff out each flame on a candelabra. “Whew, better.” I heaved in relief, lowering my legs now that my snatch was chilled.
“Hot?” he smirked.
“Hot.” I confirmed with a smile.
In the morning we enjoyed a light breakfast with friends, then said our goodbyes and headed back into the City.
“Good time.” Dick said as we reached the highway.
“Yes, really good time.”
“What’s on your mind?” He asked, catching me off guard that he somehow knew I had something to say.
“Oh,” I played nonchalant, “Just thinking it’s already mid-July. The summer is half over.”
“It is.” He agreed.
“The kids are good.” I rambled, unsure how to get to my point. “Todd has even applied to start at Boston University for September.” There, September, I said it.
“September?” Dick caught on fast.
“September already?” He questioned.
“Mmm.” I confirmed.
“That reminds me, I’ve got a big conference in Montreal in September. I meant to ask if you could take time off to join me?”
“Montreal?” I turned in my seat to face him, anticipation clear in my voice.
“Didn’t Mercy or Randelle mention it to you?” He kept his eyes on the road.
“Do you want to come?”
“Of course I want to come! When is it?” I couldn’t hide my excitement any longer.
“End of the month,” he said.
“Oh, it will be cool weather up there at the end of September.” I felt flustered and unsure how to ask about the fur show, but I forged ahead, “Mercy told us she is excited about some fur show that will be at the hotel.”
“Fur show. I think I heard something about that. Angiriou?”
“Mercy says there’s a fox coat with her name on it. It’s shopping time again.” I hoped I sounded less nervous than I felt.
“Mercy likes to shop.” Was all he said, and reached for the radio knob. I straightened myself in the seat and smiled, picturing myself trying on mink coats, and happy that I was going to Montreal, with Dick, to the fur show. Mercy had a mink coat, but I didn’t. Yet.