The Homecoming – a short story

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I watched her from a distance, careful to remain in the shadows. It was hot and she wore just a flimsy top and cotton skirt that stuck to her skin with perspiration. Her body was as beautiful and magnificent as I remembered it. Soft, plump breasts rounded like juicy plums, pressed against the cotton material. Her sweat almost rendered it translucent; brown nipples clearly visible even from my vantage point. How many times had I fantasised about closing my hands around each of those luscious globes? Even with my eyes closed I could picture them. They cried out to be massaged and moulded by warm palms until the nipples became hard with desire.

As she leaned against the open doorway, the soft sound of music filtered out from within the house. Her hips swayed a little to a Latin rhythm, and she bent her neck backwards with eyes closed as though lost to the sound. I’d pictured this scene many times in my mind over the five years that I’d been away. The image never failed to stir my loins with desire.

I’d been just a boy of seventeen when I left, but at twenty-two I considered myself a man of experience. I left as a virgin, untutored in the art of lovemaking, not knowing how to make a woman groan and pant with need. But I discovered the sweet joys of a woman’s body in the long, hot summers spent in the vineyards up north. The quick, fumbled moments of passion in dark corners; the longer and more fulfilling encounters on the soft hay of a nearby barn; the older women who passed on their knowledge to me, and the younger women on whom I enjoyed practising my new found skills—all enticing memories.

Still, there was a part of my mind that drew me back to the sultry goddess now in front of me. None of the women I met matched her sensuality or her beauty. Their eager hands and breathless urgency robbed me of the excitement of the chase. Where was the thrill I felt when seeing her rolling hips walking away from me—a brief glance over her shoulder the only signal she was completely aware of the effect she was having? Where were the nuanced clues she offered to encourage hope in an obsessed boy that one day he would be man enough to satisfy her? I would have walked over hot coals for her—but she never asked me to test my devotion. I couldn’t find that in my time away—the conquests were too easy, and now I was back.

Did she know I was watching her? Was she aware of my presence? I was well camouflaged by the shadows, but perhaps she sensed me. There was no one else in the vicinity. Yet she moved as though she was performing for someone. My cock stirred in my pants, longing to be between those wonderful thighs. I yearned to lick the salty perspiration from them and slowly move my mouth upwards to that hidden place—the source of many fantasies. I longed to slip my tongue inside her and massage her clit, until she cried out with pleasure. Yes, I learned something in my years away, as well as picking grapes.

My body had filled out from the boyish figure of five years earlier. My shoulders broadened from lifting the heavy baskets, and my muscles toned. My self-confidence, too, had been shaped and honed. I no longer stuttered my words or looked at my feet when talking to a beautiful woman. I had learned to recognize the silent language conveyed by the look on a woman’s face and the movements of her body. And where it mattered I was most definitely a man. I knew how to satisfy a woman.

Yet still I hesitated to step out of the shadows. Was I afraid of rejection? Would she have forgotten her parting words to me of five years ago?

“Goodbye, Johnny. Go and seek your fortune in the wide world. But don’t forget to come back and see me one day—when you’ve turned into a fine young man. I’ll look forward to that.”

Would she remember her words? Maybe she had a man in her house. But would she be standing outside alone on this hot evening if that were so? Why was I still hesitating to find out?

I took my courage in my hands and stepped out of the shadows, walking slowly towards her undulating body. She heard my footsteps and turned to face me, her soft, luscious lips forming a slow smile. I stopped, just a few feet from her—legs a little apart, and hands down by my sides. She spoke first.

“Hello, Johnny. So you’ve come home at last. The good-looking boy returns as a handsome man. What brings you back to these parts?”

I smiled and spoke slowly and a little deeper than she would have remembered.

“Just passing through. Thought I’d look up a couple of old friends. See if anything’s changed around here since I left.”

“Not a lot changes here, Johnny. You should know that. That’s probably why you left in the first place.”

I looked her straight in the eye. “You’re still as beautiful I see, Rosie.”

“Why, Johnny, you still know how to charm the ladies. Would you like to dance with me?”

I didn’t hesitate, stepping forward and placing both hands on her hips. She responded by placing hers on my shoulders as we danced to a soft samba rhythm.

“I see you’ve got yourself a few muscles while you were away. In fact you’ve filled out pretty good it seems.”

“And you still have the curves I remember, Rosie. It’s good to see you again.”

She pulled me a little closer as our dance became more intimate. I knew that she would be able to feel my hardening cock, but that no longer embarrassed me as it did when I was a boy. Now I took pride that I could respond to her in this fashion. I knew she was woman enough to be flattered by my interest, even if she didn’t reciprocate the feeling.

I placed my hands on her firm, round bottom as it undulated to the music.

“You always did like my bottom, I recall,” she whispered into my ear.

My voice deepened slightly. “I didn’t like you walking away from me, but the compensation was the sight of your rear as you did. You don’t know how it tortured me as a seventeen year old boy.”

“Oh, but I did,” she whispered, “I just couldn’t show it. I waited until you became a man. I knew that one day you’d return.”

I bent my head and kissed her gently on her bare shoulder.

“I always knew I would return, Rosie. There was some unfinished business as far as I was concerned. What about you?”

“Well I guess we had better go indoors and finish it then, hadn’t we?”

She took my hand, and with a smile led me through the open door.

I was home.

 

Picture: Shutterstock

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