Waking to the sunlight sneaking in from behind the shade, Christine rolled over, turning her back to it, eyes still closed. The comforter felt good keeping her warm. She laid there, trying to fall back to sleep. After 10 minutes she gave up. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by the clock on the nightstand reading 7:32. Pulling back the covers, Christine threw her feet over the side of the bed and sat up.
Downstairs in her robe, Christine waited patiently as the coffee brewed, the pot barely a quarter of the way filled. She walked to the front room and looked out the window. Moving her glasses from the top of her hair to sit upon her nose, she read the thermometer mounted on the post of the porch. 68 degrees, a rarity for southern Georgia. Recalling the newscast from the previous day, it was reported the temperature might break a record high this February day.
Christine looked at the willow tree in the large front yard of her historic plantation home. Memories flooded back. Her and grandfather sitting on a blanket. He reading books to her as they sipped on iced tea brewed by her grandmother. Upon closing the book, Christine looked up at her grandfather. "That's my favorite book ever, grandpa."
"It's my favorite book to read to you."
"And this is my favorite place in the world," she said, looking up at the intertwining branches of the tree.
Her grandfather pulled her close to him, her head leaning against his chest. "When I was young, we had a willow tree in my backyard, it was my own private hideaway. When I wanted to be alone, I just slipped past the curtain of branches and leaves, and I instantly felt better. The leaves and branches give more privacy. Look around, they touch the ground all the way around the tree, leaving a large secluded area." From that time forward, the tree took on a whole new meaning to Christine.
And in the years that followed, when visiting her grandparents, the willow tree would be her favorite place. And even more so at the age of 15, when her and her parents moved in to her grandparents home after her grandmother had passed and her grandfather had been placed in a nursing home.
Christine was brought back to the present by the smell of the coffee from the kitchen. After filling her cup, she walked out the front door onto the large porch, taking a seat in her wooden porch swing, curling her feet beneath her. Her mind again on the willow tree bathing in the bright sunlight.
It was the mid-80's at the age of 18, fresh out of high school, that her father had placed a bench under the umbrella of the willow for her. Afterall, she spent so much time there. Oh, the books she had read sitting or laying upon that bench. It was also the same bench she had her fist kiss. Billy Thompson, a boy that she was smitten with in the marching band. Cheerleaders weren't supposed to date the geeks from the band, but he was cute, funny and very gentlemanly for an 18 year old. Their summer romance didn't last long, but she did enjoy the time spent with Billy holding hands, kissing, and cuddling while enjoying a book together.
Her next boyfriend wasn't anything like Billy. Christine recalled that time many years ago.
She met Luke at the community college. Her parents were out of town in June, the week after college had ended. Christine showed Luke around the house before making sandwiches for a picnic. She asked what he wanted to drink. He suggested having some of her father's beer he had seen when she had opened and closed the fridge. Christine hesitated because she knew her parents wouldn't approve, but she grabbed him one while grabbing herself a bottle of iced tea. "I don't want to drink alone," Luke said. Christine laughed nervously, but then reached back in the refrigerator and grabbed herself a beer also.
As they enjoyed their sandwiches and other snacks, Christine explained as she did to everyone she brought to her willow that she enjoyed the privacy. Even when someone was within 25 yards, nobody knew of her presence there. Luke finished his lunch when he said he needed to use the restroom. Upon his return from the house, she noticed him holding a six pack of beer with his thumb and middle finger. She started to say something but stopped. He had noticed her nervousness. "Don't worry, I'll replace it. Let's just enjoy it," he said sitting down closer to her than before. He put his hand on her back, rubbing up and down. A few beers later they were kissing and laying back on the blanket, his tongue invading her mouth. She was flat on her back, he to her side, partially laying on her. His hand was on her stomach. Before she knew it his hand was on her clothed covered breast. Her hand grabbed his to remove it. Luke gripped her wrist forcefully and slowly pushed her arm to the side. His hand returned to her stomach. This time he pulled her shirt free of her shorts. His hand felt her stomach, Christine felt a warmth having never been touched there by a boy before. Christine's mind whirled. She thought of her friends relaying stories of their experiences with boys. From being felt up, to losing their virginity. She hadn't considered Luke being so forward this early in their relationship. She wanted this, but at the same time was conflicted.
Christine felt dizzy, the beer clearly affecting her. She broke her kiss and tried asking him to stop. His hand was soon under her bra. A boy's hand was touching her breast for the first time. Christine felt faint, dizzy. She didn't know when he had unbuttoned her shorts, she only realized it as her zipper was pulled down. She didn't protest, she was more shocked it had gotten to where it had so quickly. She thought how she was about to become a woman. Luke's hand touched her belly and slid downward beneath her underwear, his fingers now in her pubic hair. The dizziness never passed. The kissing had stopped. She opened her eyes to discover Luke on his knees beside her, his hands at the waistband of her shorts. He was pulling downward, lifting her hips as he did so. She lifted her bottom to make it easier for him. Her shorts and underwear soon pulled free of her feet. He looking at her womanly parts. A warmth rushed through her belly and lower.
"Luke, I shouldn't. We shouldn't..."
He took her hands and pulled her to a sitting position. He didn't respond to her as he continued stripping her of her clothing. Luke reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted it up. She raised her arms so he could pull it free. Christine reached back and undid her bra at her back, wanting him to see her. And she laid back down on the blanket. A flush washed over her face as Christine laid naked for the first time ever for a boy.
Luke wasted no time in getting his clothes off. She took in the sight of his penis. The first she'd seen. Hard and erect. It seemed so big. His testicles appeared so fragile. The head of his penis so red. She spread her legs. It was an invitation. Luke was soon inside her. She stared up at the maze of branches through tear filled eyes. Giving her virginity to Luke in her favorite spot in the world, beneath her willow tree.
The neighbors stray cat snapped her back to reality. She sipped at her luke warm coffee thinking how she and Luke both spent the next few weeks discovering the joys of each others and their own body's.
She was upset when Luke stopped calling on her. She was enjoying their times together. Their intimate times. She missed it. The feelings.
It was a couple of weeks following the departure of Luke when she found herself getting excited reading a romance novel on her bench beneath the willow tree. Her father was at work, her mother was in town. She wore a tank-top and light shorts. The love scene developing among the pages had unknowingly raised her heart rate. Christine stopped reading suddenly realizing her pulse was racing and she had gotten a bit warmer. It brought back some moments she spent with Luke. Christine looked around. She knew she was safe and alone in her surroundings. Christine picked up the book and began reading again. Her free hand slid inside her shorts and underwear. Her finger finding her special spot. It was a couple of pages later when Christine threw her head back moaning loudly as she came.
The cat rubbed against her leg. Christine reached down and scratched her head. The cat leapt up in her lap.
Then there was the time her college roommate and another friend from school came to stay for the weekend. Her father had set up a tent beneath the willow for them to spend the night in. It was summer and the girls could stay up later and not fear waking her parents in the quiet house. It had been years since she slept in the tent. Sally, the roommate, had brought some vodka and gin with her. They consumed some at the bonfire that her father had made for them. They consumed much more after the three of them had retired to the tent. They stayed up late talking about how their summers had been. They were soon playing a game of truth or dare. Many secrets were revealed, many laughs were had. Christine was shocked when Maria dared Sally to take off her shirt. Maria didn't hesitate. The small lantern they had helped to shed a bit of light on Sally. It wasn't long before they were all naked, the alcohol lowering their inhibitions. When Christine was dared to kiss Maria, she felt a tingle in her stomach, but leaned forward and lips met. The kiss lasted for a while. They were all soon kissing and hands started touching each other. It was Christine's first time touching or kissing another girl. Christine's greatest joy of the night was while kissing Maria, Sally crawled between her legs and applied her tongue. Christine also pleasured her roommate in a similar fashion that night. The next morning there were more kisses and more touching of each other. Things were much different in the fall when they returned to school for Christine. Many times that school year she and Sally shared the same bed.
Christine helped the cat down from her lap and stepped to the railing. Staring out at the yard It had been 45 years since she had first walked Tom out to her favorite spot. He used to call it her fort.
"This is wonderful," he explained looking at the hidden paradise. "And it's all yours," he turned to her saying. She still remember his eyes. She would never forget them. His eyes smiled more than his lips did. She was in love with him and knew she would spend the rest of her life with him. She walked to him and kissed him.
"And it's very private under here. Nobody can see in," she said smiling.
"So, I see," he said.
They kissed, and were soon making love to each other. Christine and Tom would have many more intimate times together beneath her willow tree, even late into her 60's.
This made Christine think of her parents, and them both passing tragically in an auto accident 35 years ago. Which made her think of the day she and Tom moved into her childhood home. It was that very day, while he was moving some boxes into the house, she had run out beneath the willow tree. It was as she left it except for some raking needing done. She knew Tom would know where to find her. When he did come, his arms spread the branches of the tree to enter her paradise. Christine was sitting on the bench, her clothes neatly folded next to her, a sassy smile on her face.
"Oh, how I missed this beautiful tree of yours, Christine," he said while walking to her. He helped her up and wrapped his arms around her. She loved being held by him, especially while he was clothed and she not. There was something special about it in her mind. His hands roamed her body. She loved his soft hands caressing her skin. Christine would just tilt her head back as he kissed her behind the ear, her neck, her breasts, and open her eyes looking up at the tangled branches and the sun filtering through as Tom worshiped her body with his lips and wandering hands. She would eventually be unable to contain herself and reached down to unzip him, to feel the warmth and firmness of his manhood. Many times in the years to follow she would drop to her knees and take him in her mouth under the tree. While other times she would push him to sit on the bench and she would straddle him. Also, for his enjoyment, she would push him away so she could sit at the edge of the bench and spread her legs for him to enjoy watching her touch herself. This he loved very much, as did she because it seemed to make him so happy. Oh, the joyous times they had under her tree.
That last thought gave her an idea. Christine sat the cup down on the rail of the porch. She descended the steps, and stepping into the warmth of the February sun, feeling it tickle her skin. It felt so good after such a cold winter. Christine walked toward the willow tree and parted the hanging branches. Walking to the bench she brushed away a few fallen leaves and sat down. Christine whispered, "Happy Valentines, Love. I know how you loved me doing this for you, I hope you do today."
Christine stood and opened her robe. Lowering her underwear, she stepped out of them. Sitting back down on the bench, her legs separated. Her hands rubbed her inner thighs and then traveled up her body to engulf her breasts, touching herself the way she enjoyed being touched. Like so many times before, her tilted her head back, eyes taking in the branches as her hands wandered. Christine closed her eyes and allowed her hands to glide across her belly, touching lightly, until her finger found their way down to her sex. She touched herself. Christine held herself open and rubbed inside. Soon she was breathing hard as her pulse rate increased steadily. Christine cried out loudly as her moment arrived. As the waves washed over her she opened her eyes, the branches momentarily blurring soon came into focus. "I love you, Tom," she whispered, her robe still open with her body still exposed to the air. Christine's hands still touching her body imagining Tom looking down on her. Imagining it was Tom's hands touching her. "God, how we loved each other."
Christine closed her robe and adjusted her seat. She reached down retrieving her underwear and deposited them in the robe's pocket. Tears were streaking her face. She didn't bother wiping them away, others would only follow. Christine recalled other happy memories she had with Tom over the years, not just sexual. She finally stood and walked the 10 feet to his gravestone. Leaning down, she kiss it. "I love you and miss you so much, my love." Her fingers rubbed gently across the top of it until her hand came to rest on it. More sobs and tears were given, with the granite stone supporting her.
After a time, Christine turned and walked through the willow's cascading branches. Back to her empty home.