Me and Mrs Mrs Jones Mrs Jones

The turntable spins, the record plays and my mind brings me back to that place were I met my, Mrs. Jones. I was eighteen at the time, young naïve and without a care in the world. It strikes me as funny now that as the turntable spins, it spins me back to the first time. The only time, the Mrs. Jones time of my life.

At that time of my life I was 6'2 and 185lbs, preparing for WWII, ready to concur the world, not be concurred by someone who came into and out of my life in an instant. Prior to being shipped to Camp Carson, CO I spent several days on the beaches of New York's West Hampton Bays.

Bathing suits were closer to miniature slacks with just a bit more muscle to show. My chest pounded as I swam numerous miles out to the small sandbar. There I would bath in the lapping of the water and the downpour of the sun. It was there that she and I met, loved and lived my lifetime. She must have been an old women, about twenty-four, she was married and was out of her mind with fear over the fact that her husband had not written her in several months, for you see she was the wife of an Army Officer stationed in the pacific. I told her that I was about to go into the service, and that I was going to live forever, she told me that I was going to be fine, safe and secure. All the while, single tears rolled down her face. I was struggling to be compassionate, fighting the need to comfort and surrendering to the passion that was building in my heart.

I take it that she was impressed with me, to what degree I could not tell. She held my hand after talking for part of the day. Questions, answers, small talk and of course the sailing of the sun across the sky kept us locked in ongoing conversation. I do not know how it happened but all of a sudden we were embracing each other. The underlining fear that she had, the over abundance of confidence and masculinity that I thought I had created an atmosphere conducive to this moment of my life. My first real kiss, she took my chin in her hand and raised it to her lips. She kissed me, swift, gently and passionately. I understand now that we made love with that kiss, unbeknownst to each other that one kiss would lead to making love.

She was about 5,5, 105 lbs 32C, 28, 34 golden brown hair with red from the sun, skin that felt like powdered lace when we touched and eyes that had an eternal sorrow. She called me Joe at that point, even though I told her my name was Serro. I guess we all live in dreams when necessary.

I had never felt the touch of a woman before. She sensed that and navigated both my heart and body. The waves slowly lapped at our feet as she removed my trunks, she brought my hands to her hips. Guiding me to adulthood and her breasts. Slowly I unhooked the back strap, lowered the front, and saw the perfect breasts lowering to my chest. We embraced, hands exploring. Our mouths kissed as no tomorrow could or would arrive. She removed the bottom of her suit to reveal a well-groomed forest of silken hair and sand. It never occurred to me when she lowered herself upon me that this would be a life changing event, but now that I am 80+ years old it is as vibrant a memory now as it was then.

We started out slowly, rocking with the rhythm of the tide. It was magical as we ebbed and flowed the passion building, crashing into us and receding with the water. I was so in aw that orgasm did not occur for me until she had crested numerous times. (Or so I would like to remember it that way). But I did orgasm, I could tell that she knew I was peaking and thrust her body upon my groin. Fire burning between the two of us could not be extinguished by the waves of water. We moved as one, we loved as one.... We looked at each other as only one brief moment of passion and time would allow.

She swam that day away from me, no, I never learned her name, I never saw her again. But as I lie here now, getting ready to go onto the next journey, I will ask St. Peter to introduce us again. For you see I lost my legs and all feeling at D-day in '44. She was my first, my last and my only. I have loved her all these years.