A “Becoming” Excerpt in sequence:

Rockaway Beach: 1953

Author's Notation: vividly sexual scene in this

excerpt... CAUTION (R-Rated)

U.S.C.G. Rockaway Life Boat Station 

Rockaway, New York

Summer 1953

Elsa

Bayside Police Sergeant Raymond Schmidt’s vacation was from Saturday, the seventeenth of August, through Labor Day.

Sargent Schmidt, his wife ‘Tina’ and their — closer to sixteen than seventeen year old daughter — ‘Elsa’ were spending their vacation in a rented cottage at Far Rockaway where the parents planed on spending a lot of time fishing and the daughter a lot of time on the beach… Looking for a boy to keep her company.

The weekend belonged to the ‘Port’ liberty section but it was hot and humid and Mitchell didn’t feel like taking the long ride into the city and seeing as Ewing was away for the weekend, he’d decided to spend Saturday and Sunday just laying around the beach and to go to Flatbush on Saturday evening for a Chinese dinner, then to see ‘From Here to Eternity’ a second time.

****

Standing knee-deep in the warm, calm water he watched as a girl in a two-piece bathing suit trudged across the sand.

Approaching, he saw that the girl was ‘put together’ just like he liked girls to be put together: moderately big busted, slightly on the stocky side and not too tall.

Carrying a blanket and a towel over one arm and a picnic basket in the other hand, coming closer the girl reminded him of someone he knew… someone he ‘used’ to know.

Walking in the hot sand. Looking for a likely place to spread her blanket she noticed a darkly tanned young man standing knee deep in the water... whom she ‘knew’ was watching her.

Even though the beach was not crowded and she could have placed her blanket just about anywhere, the girl—seemingly— absently veered in the young man’s direction.

Putting the basket onto the sand not too far from water’s edge, the girl flipped the light blanket open attempting to spread it. The breeze, however had a different idea.

Watching as the girl came closer. Then as she tried to spread her blanket, She came here on propose. Starting out of the water, “Hey!” Mitchell said, “I’ll give you a hand.”

Pretending she hadn’t noticed him. Looking up, straightening her body and pulling her shoulders back—showing off her jutting breasts—“Thanks,” the girl said as shading her eyes with her hand, watching as he approached, “Wow!” she muttered, because ten months in the Coast Guard had removed even more weight, and had added even more muscle.

Holding two ends of the blanket down, “Hi” Now remembering who this girl reminded him of.

Dropping to her knees, “Hi,” she answered back.

Using the picnic basket and her sandals, the girl weighed three points of the blanket as he, using a soda bottle he found in the sand, the fourth.

Looking for some sort of an opening line, thinking, The truth here might work best. “You know,” he said, “you’re ‘much’ prettier, but you remind me of someone I used to know from back home.”

“Yeah?” Smiling. “That’s a new approach! So, I remind you of ‘someone’ you used to know from back home, only ‘prettier’, huh?”

Laughing, “No, it’s true , you do! You remind me of a girl I used to know in Chicago by the name of Ina Dorfmann.”

Sitting, “ ‘Ina Dorfmann’?” she laughed. “I remind you of an Ina Dorfmann?”

Standing above her, “Yeah, but like I said, you’re…”

“I know! I’m ‘much prettier’.”

“Yeah, you are!”

He knew that New York men did not usually shake hands when meeting a woman for the first time but, It worked with Julie! Besides, he felt that it made meeting a young woman easier because once they’d touched, they’d shared something personal. Holding his hand downward, “I’m Mitchell.”

Smiling, “Hi, Mitch.” Taking hold of his hand. “That’s a pretty sneaky way to hold a girl’s hand before you’ve even met her.”

“Yeah,” returning the smile, releasing her hand. “Guess it is.”

“I’m ‘Elsa’.” Patting the blanket. “Sit down, why don’t you.”

“Hi, Elsa!” Sitting. “You know,” he said, “you’re not only the prettiest Elsa I’ve ever met you’re also the ‘only’ Elsa I’ve ever met… Ooops! That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to come out.”

“Oh, I know what you meant.” Immediately warming to him. Thinking, My God! He’s the fastest guy ‘I’ve’ ever met! “Yeah,” she said, “I’ll bet you tell that to all the girls.”

“Oh, no! Only to girls named Elsa…” Thinking, This is going too good, too fast! “You, uh, expecting anyone here today?”

Surprised at herself because, After all, I only first met him three or four minutes ago. “No,” answering honestly. “I’m all by myself today.”

“How’d you like the company of a lonely Coast Guardsman who’s far, ‘far’ away from home?”

“You’re in the Coast Guard?”

“Yeah. I’m stationed right here, at Rockaway.”

“Sounds like tough duty. Yeah, ‘sure’, I’ll do my bit for my country by keeping a ‘lonely Coast Guardsman who’s far, far away from home’ company today.”

“Great! Thanks! I’ll get my stuff.”

Licking her lips, Elsa Schmidt watched Mitchell Lipensky’s backside as he retrieved his blanket, T-shirt, book, and Thermos of lemonade.

****

Spending the afternoon on Elsa’s blanket, talking, Elsa Schmidt and Mitchell Lipensky became acquainted.

Lying in the sun, Elsa and Mitchell became warm, and…

On his side, looking at Elsa while letting a stream of sand trickle through his hand onto her bare midriff, both were becoming warmer. More ‘mentally’ warmer than physically.

“ ‘Whew’, it’s getting hot. You want to go for a swim?”

The warm sand tickling her stomach. Shading her eyes looking up. The look of him further warming her. “I’m not such a good swimmer, Mitchie. But if you ‘promise’ to hold onto me.” Rubbing her tongue seductively over her lips, “I’ll go in.”

Watching her tongue. Impulsively lowering his head, placing his mouth over her mouth and kissing deeply—feeling a further tightening in the crotch of his bathing suit—drawing Elsa’s tongue into his mouth…

Just as impulsively—sensing a wet warmth within her vagina—Elsa complied.

…The long, ardent kiss breaking, Whew! “You kidding?”

Whoa, catching her breath. “Me kidding, what?”

“ ‘I promise’! You ‘bet’ I’ll hold onto you!” Adding suggestively. “Wherever you’d like me to hold onto you… Come on!”

His erection very obvious beneath his bathing suit. Standing and turning quickly he ran into the water and didn’t stop until he was waist deep and the water covered the bulge in his suit. Diving, he swam underwater a few strokes, surfaced and looked to the beach, “Come on!” Waving to Elsa. “The water’s great!”

Savoring their kiss. Her lips warm. Her tongue still tingling. Standing, Elsa pulled the elastic bands of her two-piece bathing suit over the lower swells of her buttocks and the upper swells of her breasts.

Knowing he was watching. Walking slowly to the water’s edge, Elsa hesitated as she felt the cool water on the soles of her hot feet, then continued on till the water reached mid thighs. “Mitchie,” holding her arms out, “you said you’d hold onto me.”

Diving, he swam underwater until he touched her ankles. Breaking water, “Hi!” But still having a partial erection, remaining on his knees, moving his hands upward until they were on the backside of her upper— so smooth— still warm thighs.

“Mitchie, your hands are so cold!”

Placing her hands on either side of his face Elsa urged him upward and onto his feet. “Here,” taking his hand, she moved his right arm about her bare waist. Placing her left arm about his waist, “I feel safer if you hold me this way.”

The feel of his flesh was wet and cool. Hers warm and dry and if anything had deflated by Mitchell’s plunge in the water, it was once again fully inflated.

As they walked— trying not to be obvious—looking down and to the left Elsa easily saw the cylindrical form of Mitchell’s penis straining against the material of his bathing suit… And the tips of her fingers involuntarily pushed a bit harder onto the flesh of his side.

Elsa and Mitchell walked until her breasts appeared to float and the water was inches above his navel.

The two stood looking at the gently breaking, endless ocean…

Until, stepping in front of her, tasting the salt taste of Elsa’s flesh, he kissed her forehead as she, putting both arms about his waist pulled him to her chest.

The last time Mitchell Lipensky had been minimally waist deep in water had been in the fresh water of Lake Michigan with Sally on that ‘Indian Summer’ night way back in September of 1951— a lifetime ago so it seemed.

Her head beneath his chin, Mitchell smelled the salt tang of the young woman’s hair that mixed with the floral odor of her cologne. Feeling Elsa’s all-but-bare flesh against his bare flesh, Mitchell suddenly realized just how lonely he’d been and how long it had been since he had held a girl this closely, practically naked, chest to chest, heart to heart…

And for the first time in… How many days? For the first time in… How many weeks? Months? He did not know how long it had been since… Susan came to mind and Mitchell felt a swelling in his throat and a burning behind his eyes and he shuddered as an involuntary, quiet sob broke from deep within.

The side of her face pressed against his chest, Elsa felt the wet hair of his chest upon her cheek and—unknown to him— obeying a compulsion, stretching her tongue she licked Mitchell’s copper-colored nipple…

...The taste of the saltwater that beaded his chest was as an ‘aphrodisiac’ and she moved her arms to below his waist, to about his buttocks and squeezed tightly and feeling the hardness of his penis pressing onto her, Elsa, too, shuddered, and had an urge that she was afraid to have.

****

Elsa Schmidt had been proud of her overdeveloped breasts since they’d first become noticeable when she was nearing twelve years of age — although at that age rather repulsed by the knowledge— had since then known that boys found her attractive.

It was only in the last year, though, at the start of her second year in high school that she had let one boy unbutton her blouse, unhook her bra and look at, touch, kiss, and suckle her breasts when...

Elsa Schmidt discovered she ‘did’ enjoy being looked at, touched, kissed and suckled.

Even so, it took another two months of that same boy’s coaxing…

“Touch me ‘there’ naked, Elsa! Please let me take ‘it’ out!” Promising…

“We won’t go ‘no’ further! I ‘promise’, Elsa! We ‘won’t’!”

“No, Wayne!”

“Please, Elsa! Let me take it out! It starts to hurt when you rub it through my pants that way.”

“Well, then”—Although, really, she liked feeling ‘it’—“I ‘won’t’ rub it any way, then!”

“No, ‘don’t’ stop!”— irrationally stated— “It hurts more if you don’t rub it.

This making no sense whatsoever. However—having a sense of humor along with a bit of a sadistic streak —Elsa liked knowing that she had the power to make Wayne ‘come’ in his pants anytime she wanted.

“Ain’t you ‘never’ heard’a ‘blue balls’, baby? Look, baby, I won’t go no further! I promise you! ‘No further’!”

“Wayne, I said ‘no’!”

Then, on their very next date. “Okay, then, Let’s go steady, Elsa! You ‘wanna’ go steady with me, don’t’ch’ya, baby?”

“Well…” Most of her girlfriends were going steady! With minimal enthusiasm, “...yeah, okay.”

Because ‘going steady’ moved a boy and girl to the next plane of their sexual relationship, she allowed Wayne to unzip his pants.

Soon all of their dates became petting sessions with her masturbating him and him masturbating her… By using a finger or the palm of his hand— under her slacks or dress— but ‘always’ ‘over’ her panties and, though she truly loved being masturbated and holding his bare penis did excite her, it never took very long for her to orgasm, too.

Because she flatly refused to allow him to touch her ‘there’ directly, within another date or two Elsa did allow and discovered that she very much enjoyed ‘dry humping” with—Because she was afraid of pregnancy and also did not like getting the crotch of her panties all wet with that ‘sticky’ stuff, Elsa would allow Wayne to ‘dry hump’ her—with his prophylactic-encased penis held firmly between the juncture of her thighs and pubis ‘over’ her panties, but…

“Come on, Elsa! ‘Do’ it! Le’me put ‘it ‘in! Come on, Elsa!”

Unless ill, Elsa Schmidt went to the local ‘Baptist’ church with her parents ‘every’ Sunday and though she had never heard a sermon denouncing ‘dry humping’, she had listened—more often than she had cared to—to sermon after sermon denouncing, among other things, “ ‘The evils of fornication’!”

Because of her fear of God and out of respect for her parents, Elsa Schmidt refused to allow Wayne ‘to put it in’.

Due to the constant pressure Wayne put upon Elsa and her absolute refusal—though weakening resolve— to go ‘all the way’, at Elsa’s instance the two had broken up at the end of the past school year and had — for the past two months— resorted to her old means of self gratification. Now though...

****
‘Completely’ taken with Mitchell’s looks, personality and seemingly total lack of egotism. In comparison to all the ‘boys’ she had ever known, in her estimation, Mitchell— at the age of nineteen —was the first ‘man’ she had ‘ever’, in a ‘male/female’ sense personally known.

When he’d unexpectedly kissed her she had initially been shocked. But what had shocked her more—more than returning the passionate kiss of this young man that she had met no more than two hours earlier—was her volatile internal response because the touch of his tongue had caused Elsa to realize—not that she remotely missed Wayne—just how much she did miss being touched, and touching.

So then Elsa wondered, with the premonition of losing the battle to retain her virginity, How will I feel when—because she knew he ‘would’—he touches me ‘there’? And, How will it feel when—because she was rather sure she ‘would’— I touch him ‘there’? He is not a kid! He’s a man and he’s also a sailor. And if that’s not enough, he’s gotta look like some kind of ’a movie star, too! Elsa also wondered, Maybe I shouldn’t have told him I was eighteen. Maybe I should of told him I’m really seventeen… Well, seventeen on my next birthday.

As thoughts comes instantaneously, these concerns flicked through the mind of Elsa Schmidt instantaneously.

In order for their lips to make contact, at 5'5", normally Elsa would have to stretch upward and Mitchell would either have had to stoop or bend his neck. But in the salt water of the Atlantic Ocean— Unused to salt water, Mitchell was surprised to find Elsa was near weightless so— putting his hands into her armpits, easily lifting Elsa to his level, they kissed…

Intensified by the luxurious warmth of the gently eddying ocean, a spontaneous flame of passion transmitted from mouth to mouth, from brain to brain and from genitalia to…

“Whew!” Opening her eyes. “Where in the world did you ever learn to kiss like that!?”

Catching his own breath. Feigning hurt feelings. “Sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Tightening her arm-hold about his neck. “You sure did! Brushing her lips over his. “Do something wrong again, will you!” Entwining her fingers in his hair, she forced his face to hers.

There was a man and woman to the left and two young boys to the right but with no one before them…

As they kissed: Leaving his left arm around her waist while stretching his right arm about the back of her knees, easily scooping Elsa off her feet. Cradling her in his arms, Mitchell walked beyond the man and woman and boys and continued to walk outward until the water reached the lower level of his chest.

Facing outward supporting the weight of Elsa’s buoyant body with his left arm, he moved his right hand to her stomach then— their lips still together— up to and onto the top of her bathing suit

Taking a moment to realize that Mitchell was holding her breast. “Mitchell...” really, she did not want to stop him but “... ‘really’, I just met you!” Moving his hand and twisting out of his arms—the water coming to below her chin— Elsa stood on tiptoes on the sandy bottom.

“Elsa,” surprise showing on his face, “I thought you said you were afraid of the water?”

“Yeah, well, don’t believe ‘everything’ a girl tells you.”

Surface diving, she swam about twenty feet and, treading water, waited for Mitchell to join her.

“You swim, too!” he said good-naturally. “You ‘lied’ to me!”

“Yeah. Sometimes I’ve been known to do that… Race you back!”

Though a fairly strong swimmer he could not catch her.

****

Elsa’s picnic basket contained ham and cheese and bologna and cheese sandwiches, Oreo cookies, a banana, an apple, and a Thermos of cherry Kool-Aid. All of which she shared with Mitchell.

Speaking between bites of the ham and cheese sandwich “You busy tonight?”

“Yeah...” she’d been waiting for him to ask “...if you call sitting around playing ‘Monopoly’ with my folks busy.”

Taking another bite. “Have you seen ‘From Here To Eternity’?” Washing it down with Kool-Aid.

She had but, “I wanted to, but missed it when it came around.”

“Well, I was planning on Chinese for dinner, then going to see it. So if you want to… Or if you don’t like Chinese we can…”

Thank you, God! “No! I ‘love’ Chinese food.”

Great! “Great! So we got a date?”

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to sound too excited. “What time?”

“Oh, ‘bout five, five-thirty. Okay?”

Perfect! “Yeah, fine. You going to be in uniform?”

If she wants me to. “Nah. When I go out it’s usually in civvies.”

In one way Elsa was relieved, because it was going to be hard enough to explain Mitchell to her parents without him showing up in a sailor uniform. But, on the other hand, she ‘would’ like to see him in uniform and would ‘love’ to be seen with him in uniform. But, she thought, I’m gonna be here for two weeks, and if I play my cards right, him’n’me’ll be together all the time when he’s off.

The balance of the afternoon was spent on the blanket… And in the water.

Their kisses became longer and in the water with their bodies hidden from the eyes of those on the now-crowded beach, Elsa did allow his hand to linger on her breast.

Completely impassioned by the romantic day, the tepid water and especially Mitchell. Again buoyantly cradled in his arms. Beyond the bathers, kissing him… Being kissed by him.

Sensing the release of tension as…

Feeling the cool softness of Elsa’s breasts for the first time. Moving his lips and eyes…

In comparison to the tan of her chest, Elsa’s breasts were the whitest, largest breasts he’d ever seen—not, of course, that Mitchell Lipensky had seen a whole lot of real live breasts and especially ‘not’ counting Julie Marx, who’s breasts he had not seen— Elsa’s had the darkest, the smallest…

Lowering his head, he licked some brine off one breast, then hungrily drew its small, turgid, dark-brown nipple deeply into his mouth tasting the saltiest nipple—actually the only salty nipple—he had ever tasted and, Oh, God! it tasted so good and, “Elsa,” he said, forcing his mouth from her breast and his eyes from her breasts “you are ‘so’ beautiful!”

I’m ‘so beautiful’! This praise from a man, from this man flattering Elsa beyond comprehension.

Fully aroused now. Twisting out of his arms. The bathing suit halter floating up to her chin. Dropping into the water and wrapping her arms about his neck and crushing her nude breasts to his nude chest and her lips to his lips. Unable or unwilling to control herself, reaching downward Elsa shoved her hand through the top of Mitchell’s bathing-suit…

Oh, God!

…. Holding ‘him’, she silently moaned and…

Not calculating the time, of course. This day about one month short of two years since that wonderful night on his father’s boat with Sally making now about one month short of two years since he’d last felt the wonderful crush of a girl’s bare breasts against his chest, or felt…

Susan had —on that one occasion in her bedroom— reached beneath his pants and ‘momentarily’ touched ‘him’… Making that momentary touch the last time that Mitchell had felt the sensation of a girl’s hand on his bare penis and he silently moaned as…

Simultaneously, each had the same thought:

I am about to get laid and he doesn’t have a rubber!

I’m about to get fucked and don’t have a rubber!

But it didn’t matter because having some idea of what Elsa and Mitchell were up to, three pre-teen age boys decided to watch and— being boys— were not overly quiet.

Giving them a very dirty look, Little fuckers! Mitchell thought.

Covering her breasts, Little creeps! Elsa yanked her bathing suit halter down from beneath her chin

Splashing ashore.

Some people thinking they knew what the two had been doing, clacked their tongues and shook their heads.

But many of the men sitting on their blankets with their wives and children sighed and looked lustfully at the pretty, big-busted young woman… As many of the women sitting on their blankets with their husbands and children looked at the darkly tanned, handsome young man and they, too, sighed lustfully.

**** 

The Schmidt’s rented cottage was on Rockaway Beach Boulevard about one-half mile south of the Coast Guard compound. Walking Elsa home, passing the station, “That’s where I live.”

At the cottage, Elsa was tempted to invite Mitchell in but she knew what would happen as soon as they were behind a closed door. Besides, she had no idea when her parents would be returning home so wisely kissed him goodbye at the front gate.

****

Taking a shower in a highly elated state of excitement and—anticipating tonight— because he did not want to give Elsa a ‘beard burn’, ‘anyplace’, he shaved for the second time that day.

Knowing where they would, inevitably, be going after the movie and what they would —if truly there was a God in heaven—be doing, omitting underpants he wore only well-worn Levi’s, a—what else but—yellow, polo shirt, and his old—getting very old—dirty white-buck shoes.

In all their hours of conversation on this day, Elsa had neglected to mention that her father was a police sergeant. So, much to her relief, her parents were still fishing when Mitchell called for her at 5:10.

They took the bus to Flatbush.

They had the C dinner for two at the ‘China Inn’.

They saw ‘From Here To Eternity’ then took the bus back to Far Rockaway.

Though both knew where they were going.—No doubt seeing themselves as ‘Deborah Kerr’ and ‘Burt Lancaster’ rolling passionately in the surf.—Although he’d ‘surely’ suggest it, and she’d ‘surely’ agree, even if they’d just seen ‘Bambi’. Mitchell said to Elsa…

“I’ve got a great idea!”

Holding hands, walking from the bus turnaround, down the incline that led to Rockaway Beach Boulevard…

“Yeah?” as if she didn’t know, “What’s that, Mitchie?”

“It’s so beautiful tonight!” As though to prove this statement he spread both arms above his head encompassing the entire moonlit, star-studded universe. “How’s ‘bout going down to the beach?” Stopping, turning Elsa in his direction, embracing tightly they kissed. “So, how’s about it? You want to go the beach?”

After seeing Elsa home earlier that day—hardly able to contain her excitement— At four thirty Elsa had taken a shower, put on rayon panties, an easy-to-unhook, two-clasp bra, beige slacks, a matching sleeveless blouse and black leather sandals.

Her parents still not home, she’d left a note informing them that she’d met Mitchell—omitting the fact that he was a sailor—and that, if it’s okay with them, they’re going to Flatbush for dinner and to see a ‘double’ feature. It was a ‘singl’e feature that they were going to see and...

Her parents were not home to say either ‘yea’ or ‘nay’—so now…

“Sure, Mitchie, I’d love to go to the beach!”

‘Sure, Mitchie, I’d love to go to the beach’! Wanting, hoping, praying she would say this but not sure that she would, his heart thumping. “ ‘Great’!” he said. “I’ll get a blanket.”

At the station. “Come on,” he coaxed. “It’s okay.” Proud of Elsa, wanting to show her off to whomever might be on duty. “You can wait for me inside.”

But, just a little shy about going to the beach at 9:35 at night with a sailor she’d only met that day. “No,” she said, sitting on the stoop. “You go. I’ll wait for you here.”

“Okay, be right back.” Going inside. Running up the stairs, through the hall into his room he grabbed the extra blanket off the shelf in his closet and back downstairs. Catching his breath before opening the door. “Hi!”

****

They walked a quarter mile along the shore, well away from any people that may be on the beach at this hour.

“This looks pretty good, huh?”

Angling away from the water. Stopping, they spread the blanked under a steep, grassy embankment where if anyone were walking along the moonlit beach they, ‘hopefully’, would not see two, ‘hopefully’, naked bodies—if there is a God in heaven—writhing in a sexual embrace.

In the theater they had sat as close as the armrest would allow. Every now and then they would kiss and the kiss, as though a prelude to what both were sure was going to happen, would send a surge of moisture to Elsa’s lower region and a surge of blood to Mitchell’s.

Now though, that the time was here… Now, delaying the moment… Now, feeling fear for what she… Please, Jesus, let it happen! Yet, praying to Jesus, Don’t let it happen! Elsa sat on the far end of the blanket looking at the moon’s wide tail reflected upon the slightly rippling water.

Not wanting to rush her. Wisely giving Elsa time to acclimate herself to the situation…

But now, the words spoken both as a soft command and also a plea “Elsa... Baby come closer.””

Turning her head Elsa looked at the shadowed, moonlit-diffused figure of Mitchell, whom, having removed his shirt, shoes and socks was lying on his side with his head propped in the palm of his hand looking at her... Waiting for her.

Seeing him with ‘only’ his jeans, again feeling the urge in her lower abdomen, ‘Now’, Elsa thought, it would be best to talk to him. To tell him before he… Yet she did not want to tell him… Yet, now she ‘did’ want to tell him that she ‘does’ have her limits… Yet, Jesus! She wanted no limits! Elsa was afraid to let Mitchell touch her. Yet, Jesus! I want him to touch me! She was afraid to touch him, but, Oh, Jesus! She could not wait to touch him, again… ‘there;.

Earlier, when she had impulsively reached through the top of his bathing suit and held him—So unlike Wayne’s longer, much thinner penis—Holding this strange, new penis had further—much further—excited her but now, Oh, Jesus! she rationalized. What if he doesn’t have a rubber and he puts it in and he comes? Jesus, I’m afraid! But then again, But I want him to! she thought and, But what do I do if I get pregnant?

Waiting…

What’ll I tell mom and dad?

Waiting… “Elsa,” patting the blanket, “Come on, baby.”

Oh, Jesus… Moving closer, turning, Elsa lay on her side facing Mitchell... Lying beside Mitchell.

Mouths an inch apart, each felt the warm breath of the other.

Moving even nearer. Lips brushed lips…

Tongues touched tongues.

Laying the crook of his arm on Elsa’s hip and the palm of his hand onto her back, applying gentle pressure, easing Elsa onto her back.

Lowering his bare chest onto her.

Moving her hands to his bare back…

Oh, Jesus! Her resolve gone. Pressed the tips of her fingers hard into his flesh, as…

Lifting his chest as blindly pushing buttons through button holes…

“Wait, Mitchie, let me take it off. I don’t want to go home too wrinkled.”

“Yeah, baby…” Lifting his chest, speaking softly, “...take it off.”

Stalling a bit, giving herself time to pull her thoughts together.

Shrugging the blouse off her shoulders and holding it by the inner tab, Elsa laid it neatly on the far side of the blanket…. Pulling her arms through the hanging straps and lifting the bra over her head, she lay it on top of the blouse.

If she had been stalling, Mitchell didn’t notice because he hadn’t taken his eyes off Elsa’s moonlit, iridescent white breasts.

Next “Becoming” excerpt in sequence: “Fornication, sort of”