Maria and Fernando were walking through the park, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes with her arm laced through his, and sometimes just going side by side. They had no destination, just some weekend morning people-watching.
Fernando was wearing a polo shirt announcing his Brazilian football loyalties, along with tight black pants that showed his fit and manly ass off nicely. Maria, for her part, had on a patterned blouse and a dark green pleated skirt that fell to halfway between her knees and ankles. Her dark hair was loose and falling on her shoulders in a curly half-tamed mess, deliberately casual and off-duty.
She'd wondered whether she should actually bother wearing panties, given the current location of her cunt, but then decided that her skin would probably do better with the extra layer of cotton while out walking, whether or not her vagina happened to be elsewhere at the moment. Said migratory vagina was sitting happy and open in the middle of her right-hand thigh, a dirty secret hidden underneath her skirt. As she walked, she thought that even with it back in place, she might occasionally enjoy going without underwear when she thought that she could get away with it. She was enjoying the feel of the open air wafting through her pubic hair and the feeling of doing something forbidden and yet mostly safe. She wouldn't want to actually be seen uncovered by anybody but her lover, but she was still enjoying the little spicy thrill of having a sexy secret that nobody but she and he would know about.
And actually, she was finding the current location of her cunt to be a little bit challenging in a pleasant way. She wasn't a woman whose thighs rubbed together when she walked, but they came close. Her cunt, however, was not flat. The truncated bulge of her outer labia stuck out a little bit beyond the normal level of her skin, and then the pubic hair that came with it stuck out a little further still. What that meant was that with every step Maria took, her cunt was stimulated lightly, a gentle brushing of her other thigh against her hair and sometimes just a feather's brush across her labia. Any individual touch was not so much, but after half an hour of walking, she was getting to be on edge and antsy with arousal.
What she'd really like, she thought, would be to knock Fernando to the ground and fuck him on the spot. But that wasn't very practical at the moment, not out here in this crowded park. Instead, she decided to take the pressure off a bit and towed Fernando over to a spot where they could sit and watch a busker juggling. Ignoring open benches, Maria found a clean spot on the grass and set herself down cross-legged, skirt protectively curtaining out around her kness. Fernando sat beside her, legs out straight, and she leaned over to whisper an explanation of her problem in his ear.
He smiled and squeezed her knee, quite chastely and appropriately, and they sat and listened for a while. Maria settled down as she enjoyed the show, the other people watching, and the sun streaming down across them from above. Eventually, they moved again. Maria opened her purse and dropped a bill in the busker's open box, and she and Fernando went off to find a cafe and some lunch. In the bathroom, Maria wet a paper towel and cleaned up the sticky traces that had accumulated around her vagina and on the thigh across from it.
The afternoon passed in much the same sort of fashion. Some wandering and a little shopping, sitting around and talking and absorbing the energy of the city. Fernando had a project that he was enjoying at his job and Maria was looking forward to the next lecture in the series at the library. They talked about vacation plans, considering what their first joint trip might be and where they'd like to go. Maria was happy with her man, and he was happy with her too.
They returned to Maria's bearing fish and tomatoes and a bottle of cachaca. Maria played sous chef for Fernando as he cooked, and equal amounts of the liquor went into the fish and the caipirinhas that they slowly sipped. Neither of them was looking to get drunk, but Fernando claimed that the dish could not properly be appreciated without it as accompaniment, and Maria enjoyed its cool and sweet lime taste.
As she watched Fernando cook, Maria reflected on how the day had passed, and how they'd been spending much more time together lately. She loved him, she realized, not just as a boyfriend and a lover, but somebody who could be more than just that in her life. As she reflected on her realization, she wondered just when that had happened. It wasn't new. She saw that now. But it had snuck up on her bit by bit, and the last two weeks were just a catalyst that helped her realize something that she'd known already, at least at some level deep inside her mind.
Setting the dish he'd made to cool beside the plaintains he had fried, and with beans still slowly simmering on another burner of the stove, Fernando came and sat across from her. "You're very quiet now," he said.
She looked at him and said, "Just lost in thought." She smiled a nervous smile, now wondering if he returned her feelings or if he did not. He liked to be with her, that was clearly true, but like and love were miles apart. And she was still not quite sure what to do with love herself. She'd used the word before, but she'd been younger then, and now she knew that what she had been feeling then was more infatuation or desire. Not this slow and easy feeling that had her sinking unexpectedly into thoughts about children and growing old. It all boiled up inside her and Maria was suddenly on the edge of tears, just lost in waves of oscillating want and fear.
"I..." she started, trailing off, suddenly aware of how long she'd been silent. "Fernando. I was watching you cooking." Words were coming hard, but she had to speak. He was looking at her seriously now, no doubt unsure where she was going, but clearly paying close attention, waiting to hear what she would say.
She drew a breath and continued. "I was watching you cook, and thinking about the day we've had and thinking how much I love to be with you. And that's when I realized I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you. I want more times like these, I want to live our lives together, and I want to stay with you forever."
As she'd spoken, he'd reached out to her and held her hand, firm grasp and solid, never letting go. "Maria," he said, and he paused too. "I want to be with you as well. I'm tired of leaving you to go away back to an apartment that no longer feels like home. I want days like this, and nights. I want to cook for you and clean with you. I want to see each other good and bad and tired and cranky and hold each other when we grieve." He paused, then said, "I guess that's love? I do not think I've ever known just when to use that word. Nothing feels like in a movie or on television. No dancing birds or twirling singing in the air. And I won't shower you with roses. That's not me."
