As our 25th wedding anniversary approached, my wife Linda and I decided that we wanted to do something more-than-nominally special in celebration. A quarter-century of wedded bliss (and, when we stopped to ponder, we had to admit that, taken as a whole, 'bliss' was exactly the right word) had brought us four delightful children, and many good friends (although, to be perfectly candid, at least where the children were concerned, their 'delightful-ness' was not always right out front where it could be easily seen; but then, neither is mine, so fair's fair, I guess). As we approached the 25-year milestone, we had an increasing sense of having put in the necessary work to have a strong marriage and solid kids who were on their way to becoming solid adults. We'd put in the work, and sweated the sweat, and now we were starting to see the reward of it; and that was worth a little bit of celebration.
I floated the idea of a 'second honeymoon' to Linda, and she loved the idea. We'd spent a memorable portion of our original honeymoon at a cabin up north in the woods, on the shores of Lake Michigan. The cabin belonged to some friends of my parents, and they gave us use of it for a week, as a wedding gift. The cabin itself was lovely, and beautifully situated. Not that it had mattered all that much for a couple of honeymooning newlyweds. My own memories of our honeymoon were mostly of the joys of three-and-four-a-day sex; we didn't spend a whole ton of time out of bed. Sweet memories, those. . .
We still saw, from time to time, the folks who'd let us use their cabin all those years ago. They were still around, and still owned the same cabin. One time, in the course of saying 'hello' to them, I mentioned that Linda and I were trying to arrange a second honeymoon for our Silver Anniversary.
"Has it really been 25 years?" Jim asked. "I'm sure I'm not nearly old enough for the two of you to have been married for 25 years."
"Well," I replied with a chuckle, "my kids are certainly old enough."
"Well listen -- if you like, I'd love for you to use the cabin again."
"Wow, Jim - we'd be honored! It's such a lovely place, and we had such a wonderful time there before. It would just be fitting to go back to the place where it all began."
Linda was delighted when I told her about the cabin, and relieved to have settled on a place. We planned a four-day weekend around the actual day of our anniversary. All that remained was to schedule the specific activities for the four days. And honestly, I pretty much only had one 'activity' in mind, anyway. . .
Whenever Linda and I talked about our vacation, the conversation was thick with anticipation of romance and sex. We would reminisce fondly about our first honeymoon, and spending days in bed, naked together, making love whenever the mood struck us. Sex was so new and exciting for us in those days, and we couldn't get enough of it, or of each other. Even in our first year of marriage, it was common for Linda and me to call each other at work in the morning, and meet back home to make love on our lunch break.
Of course, once the kids started arriving, and the daily responsibilities of life kicked into high gear, romance and sex seemed to slide down the priority list. It was never awful -- our sex has always been good, and solid, and life-giving. But there rarely seemed to be time anymore to just relax and enjoy each other in a carefree manner. We aimed to fix some of that on our second honeymoon.
One day, I was surfing the internet, and I came across an ad for a lovely little filmy negligee. It seemed just perfect for Linda -- I could easily imagine what she would look like in it, and how it would show her body to its maximum advantage, so I ordered it; it arrived the week before we were leaving. I wanted to start 'priming the romantic pump', so to speak, so I didn't wait; I gave it to her as soon as it arrived. She took it, and held it up to herself in front of the mirror, imagining how it would look with nothing else underneath it. She grinned.
"I can't wait to wear it," she purred. "But not until we get there. Don't want to spoil all the anticipation." I groaned in mock-frustration.
*****
At last the day came. We packed our gear in the car -- including two magnums of champagne -- and headed north. With each passing mile, our day-to-day responsibilities retreated into the rear-view, and we could practically feel the weight lifting off our shoulders. Linda leaned over and snuggled into me as we drove. We reminisced about our first honeymoon, and how Linda spent most of our drive-time playing with her new toy between my legs. I told her that I wouldn't mind at all if she wanted to do that again, so she did. But now, after 25 years, it was less urgent than it had been on that drive long ago, and more relaxed. And just as incredible.
We finally arrived at the cabin. We unpacked the car and got ourselves situated in the cabin. Then I poured two glasses of champagne and lit a ginseng candle in the living room. I flopped down relievedly onto the couch and beckoned Linda to join me, but she excused herself to 'change into something more comfortable'.