Tollie's Garden Pt.2 - Sex Stories

Tollie's Garden Pt.2

... I unbuttoned his pants, lowering the zipper and reached inside and caressed his warm hardness then felt his hands gripping my ass and pulling me closer. We lay down on the couch, sinking into the soft cushions, his body hovering over me. I started sliding my skirt off, his hands helping. I lifted my ass, feeling him slipping off my soaked panties. Then, he took off his jeans and T-shirt and there we were making sweet, gentle love, the Rachmaninoff playing softly, the perfect music for our first night and he entered me so slowly, so gently, his movement like the bows on the violins, his hard cock moving in and out, going slowly and deeper, filling me. We were the music and the music was us, our bodies so in harmony and moving faster with the music then harder, faster, deeper, trembling, the music rising, taking us closer to exploding, the music rushing to its climax, soaring and suddenly we were there, reaching for the highest notes, climaxing, coming together. It was a miracle how our first night of making love became something we would never forget. I was sobbing and he held me close and we lay together on the couch. The music had stopped and it was quiet, no sound or movement other than the candles flickering in the dark. That night was five years ago. I went to the University of Vermont that fall and we talked on the phone and e-mailed every day, and he sent me new poems and I told him I was spending most of my time in the pottery studio at school and had a great ...

... teacher. I had a few other good courses but my main interest was learning how to be a potter. I loved it and learned that he was right. When you find what you love you are seldom, if ever, bored. My pottery teacher said something to me that I never forgot. “Though I am a master, when I look at a piece of clay I am a beginner.” When I told Tollie that, he said that he’d learned that about poetry. I did the same thing that Tollie did when he dropped out of the PhD program to write poetry. I didn’t go back to college the following fall and came home and for a while, shared his apartment, but we also spent a lot of time in the big house. We turned the whole downstairs of the carriage house into my studio and Tollie still used the apartment to write. Mom was not even jealous of me and Tollie, once she saw how much we loved each other. We had a lot of good meals together and when mom died last year from breast cancer at fifty-two, I couldn’t have survived without Tollie. It was a nightmare. I inherited the house. I have to make money to show on my income tax form in order to have it be matched by the trust and we get by just fine. Tollie and I never married. We didn’t need to, but he is the love of my life and he tells me every day how much he loves me. We grow most of our food and several places sell my pots and bowls. He started sending his poetry to small journals and had several poems published then won a competition where he got a thousand dollars and they published his book called, ...