Naked in School Homer
- 3 years ago
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Arriving Home free porn video
A chair is still a chair
Even when there's no one sittin' there
But a chair is not a house
And a house is not a home
When there's no one there to hold you tight
And no one there you can kiss goodnight
(Hal David / Burt Bacharach){/r}
"G'day, mate, welcome home to Australia," the immigration officer said as he handed my passport back. "Are you home for good?"
"Yeah, decided it was time to move back; eleven years in the US was too long," I replied. "I'm looking forward to some good, cold beer, watching the test cricket, in fact I'm meeting an old girlfriend from years ago, and I'm hoping it will turn out well, if ya know what I mean."
"Sure do. Well, good luck, and welcome home," he said.
I though back to another airport, another country, where I was arriving to start a new life. That time was after my divorce; emigrating to the US to be with my new wife. That hadn't turned out to be one of my better decisions. I remembered another airport, many years before that, saying goodbye to Heather as she flew out of Sydney, and out of my life. I hated airports for many years after that.
The flight from Dallas wasn't too bad – long, of course – fifteen hours on a plane would test the patience of anyone. That wasn't counting the three hours from Jacksonville to Dallas, or the two hours lay over there. Still, as flights go, it was okay; I had a vacant seat next to me, so I could spread out. The food was passable, and as soon as dinner was over, and the lights turned out, I wrapped the blanket around me, put the headphones on and selected the classical music channel, and tried to sleep.
Not that sleep was really possible, of course – contorted into the seat, the sounds of the engines, and announcements from the attendants, other passengers getting up and moving around. I guess I got a few hours sleep, somewhere over the Pacific, and then I tried to freshen up in the bathroom – a shave and a cat lick wash – removing my shirt and using a damp cloth to wipe over my face, chest and underarms. I wanted to make sure I was at my most presentable for Heather.
I collected my suitcases, and then it was to the customs inspection. Not that I was expecting any problems there. Nothing to declare – and I was through in less than fifteen minutes, walking out to the arrivals hall, scanning the waiting crowd for Heather. I couldn't see her within the masses of people – holiday makers excited about finally arriving in Australia; family members greeting returning loved ones; even a few business people. I climbed up on a step to get a better view, still no sight of her.
"Paging a passenger arriving from Dallas on QF15 – could Mr. William Morris come to the passenger information booth between arrival gates 4 and 5? Paging Mr. William Morris, passenger from Dallas on QF15, please come to the passenger information booth," the PA system called out.
"Bugger," I swore under my breath. "I wonder what that's about. Maybe she's got delayed?"
I made my way to the information desk, and waited until the person in front of me at the counter had been served.
"Yes, I'm Mr. Morris, I was just paged," I said.
The woman took a large manila envelope from the desk, and handed it to me.
"A woman dropped this off earlier this morning, and asked that we give it to you," the information desk woman said. "She said everything in there is self-explanatory, and not to worry about anything."
"Ok, thanks," I said. "This woman; what did she look like? Did she leave a name?"
"Oh, in her early 50's, I would guess, shoulder length dark hair, glasses," she replied. "She didn't leave a name, but said that all you would need to know is in that envelop."
I opened the envelope – my name and flight details were written on the outside; I recognized Heather's writing immediately. I wondered what she was up to – I was expecting to meet me, for us to kiss like there was no tomorrow. Then we would go to a nearby hotel that she was going to book for us. It appeared that something had changed her mind. I pulled out the papers inside the envelope, and started to read. There was a typed sheet of instructions, a map fragment and a car rental agreement. I started with the instructions.
Instructions
Babe, our plans have changed – we aren't staying in a hotel here, I've made other arrangements for our accommodation.
1. Go to the Thrifty car rental booth to pick up the car. Make sure it has a GPS navigation system; the one that I've booked for you does, and you will need that for the next stages.
2. Enter this address into the system:
Rosewood Avenue, Cabarita Beach – there is a roundabout at the intersection of that road and Tweed Coast Road.
3. When you get there, there is a park on the corner, with a geocache hidden there – waypoint name "GCILUVU". You are looking for a camouflaged Tupperware container, hidden in a tree. The coordinates are:
East 153 degrees 34.167 minutes
South 28 degrees 19.847 minutes
You did remember to bring your GPS receiver, didn't you?
4. The cache will contain the next set of instructions. Don't take too long – I'm waiting for you.
I smiled and laughed to myself. She was being rather sneaky and mysterious.
"No problems, I hope?" the woman at the desk asked.
"No, none at all," I replied. "Could you tell me where the Thrifty car rental desk is, by the way?"
She pointed me in the direction of the rental desk, and as I made my way there, I saw her call someone on the phone. Curious, I stopped to listen in, re-reading Heather's instructions as I did.
"This is the passenger information desk at Brisbane airport – you left the package for Mr. Morris to collect," she said. "He's just picked it up now, and has gone to get his car. No, no problems at all, I was just happy to help you – I hope everything works out for the two of you."
I looked around to see if there was anyone filming me; this was starting to appear like a spy thriller, or a "Candid Camera" episode. What was she up to, I wondered?
I collected my car from the rental agency – a fairly new Honda Civic, complete with the very necessary GPS navigation system. I plugged the address into it, and it indicated about a two hour drive for me. Fortunately, I had some change in Australian currency for the tolls.
Over the Gateway Bridge and on the motorway heading back to New South Wales; I kept telling myself "keep to the left, keep to the left". It was a change to hear the local Aussie accents on the radio station – the station was "92.5 Gold FM" – and as the next song started, I recognized Paul Kelly's "To Her Door"; rather appropriate for this situation, even though I wasn't returning after having left her to "dry out". I sang along with Paul:
"He was riding through the cane, in the pouring rain
to her door"
Not that it was raining, of course; it was a beautiful sunny summer's day.
"Walking in slow motion...
Did they have a future?...
Shaking in his seat, riding through the streets
In a silvertop, to her door"
I thought about everything that had happened, since we had met on that weekend, over 37 years ago. It was literally love at first sight, but then fate stepped in, and Heather had to move away, 500 miles from where I lived. A series of events meant we lost contact, we both got married, divorced, remarried, had other relationships, but inside we knew that there was someone else for us.
When twelve months ago we made contact again, the magic between us was still there, but how to realize our dreams? I was living on the other side of the world, married, with commitments, not really able to afford to go through a divorce, sell everything, and make my way back to Australia and start anew. Once again fate stepped in; but this time on our side. I can still recall my mixed feelings when I was called at work by the Sheriff's office; a drunk driver speeding through the red light, a fatal accident, and I was now a widower. Working in the court system, having lots of contacts with attorneys and judges, the case was settled quickly with a generous settlement to compensate me "for my loss", and I did felt guilty, trying to appear devastated, when in reality I was relieved at my new found freedom. Leah, my boss, who knew the full story of my situation, told me not to be so silly.
"Will, you have to look after yourself, do what is in your best interest," she said, when I told her how I felt guilty taking the multi-million dollar settlement. "You of all people deserve to be happy, to be with who you really love. Now don't let me hear you being morose like that. Life has dealt you a good hand after all of the shit you've had to put up with, take advantage of it; go back to Australia, to the woman who loves you and life happily ever after."
Leah was an incurable romantic, but what she said was completely true. The house sold quickly, certainly faster than I had expected in the current market, and I arranged an international moving company to pack up and ship most of my possessions, the furniture, and all the things that we would need to set up a house together in Australia. All I had with me were two suitcases of clothes that would have to last until the main container arrived in a few weeks.
Of course, in the next few weeks there would be all the work to establish my life back in Australia – transferring bank accounts, getting my NSW driver's license, getting a car, looking at houses. At least I wouldn't need to work; but I would have to see my old school mates Martin and Brett to set up the money in a suitable investment. But the next few days – that was just for Heather and me to finally consummate our relationship, what we had been working towards for the previous twelve months.
An hour later I crossed the state border, and I smiled to myself as I drove passed the exit for Tweed Heads South. "That's where we will be staying soon", I told myself. "Assuming what is in store for me goes to plan – whatever her plan is."
I was almost tempted to drive by her place, just to see it for real – but then I remembered she told me not to delay. I wondered if she was just as eager as I was to be together. I had been dreaming about that on the flight, us finally being together "in the flesh", after so many years.
A few minutes later I turned off the highway, and drove along a narrow two lane road between green fields; fat, contented cows chewing their cud eyed me as I drove past. Then I was driving through some unspoiled, natural bushland, across a small river until I was close to the ocean. I could smell the salt in the air, and hear the sounds of the surf.
Not much further ahead I found the location that Heather had specified. I pulled up on the side street, and let the GPS settle down – it needed to reacquire all the satellites that were visible in the southern hemisphere, so while I was waiting, I looked around for potential cache sites. About 30 metres across the grass I could see a tree – two trees, in fact, both suitable for hiding a small cache in their branches.
With the GPS receiver indicating the larger tree on the right, I walked across the grass. Now I was out in the sun, I was amazed at just how hot the day was, and hoped that it wouldn't take me too long to find the cache. I found a suitable stick, and used that to poke around in the bushes – a few empty soft drink containers and discarded fast food litter, and then under some leaves, I saw something that didn't belong there – a plastic container wrapped with camouflage tape. I pulled the container out, and opened it. Inside was another piece of paper, and a key on a tag.
Instructions, Part 2
If you are Will Morris, then these are for you. If you are not Will, then please replace the cache just as you found it.
Babe:-
By now you have completed the first stage of the cache hunt. The key is to the place where we are staying. The coordinates are on the tag. I'll be waiting there for you.{br } Bring the cache with you.
Back to the car, and I plugged the next set of coordinates into the car navigation GPS. Fortunately, it wasn't too far away, a mile or two back up the road. I wiped the sweat from my brow, started the car, and put the A/C on maximum.
As I drove back up the road, I wondered to myself – just what was Heather doing at the moment? Was she curious as to how I was proceeding in my "treasure hunt"? I knew that she must have dropped the first set of instructions off, and arranged for the rental car earlier this morning; and she knew that I had collected the instructions from the information desk at the airport. But was she keeping track of my progress? I scanned the rear view mirrors, looking to see if anyone was following me; looking for her car. She had clearly placed the cache in the tree earlier that morning. I couldn't see any sight of her, though.
The address took me to a fairly new development, and the house was close to the ocean. I saw Heather's car in the driveway, so I knew I was at the right location. I got out, and carried my cases to the front door. I knocked, but there was no answer. Still, that is why she left the door key. I opened the door, and went inside. There was a note on the rail at the foot of the stairs:
Our bedroom is upstairs.
Up the stairs – with my cases – and on the bed was a cardboard box, with more instructions. Inside the box were a silk robe and some black satin boxers.
You might want to freshen up after your trip, and get into something more comfortable.
Actually, I really felt like a nice shower – I wasn't use to the hot weather, it was a frosty morning when I left Florida, and hunting for the cache had left me all sweaty; certainly not the state that I wanted Heather to first see me in. A hot, refreshing shower and a proper shave would be good. I got my toilet bag from my case, undressed, and turned on the shower. While the water was warming up, I had a quick shave, touching up the rough spots from the attempted shave on the plane earlier in the morning.
The shower cubicle was large; a double sized shower, complete with a seat at one end. I made a mental note to suggest trying that out together later on. When I was refreshed, clean and dry, I pulled on the boxer shorts and put the robe on. What next, I wondered?
Slipping my hands in the robe pockets, I noticed a scrap of paper:
The pool is out the back, through the kitchen.
Back down the stairs, and out through the kitchen. There was a large pool, complete with spa, and off to one side a pool house. There was a pergola shading that side, with some lounge chairs set out in the sun.
As I walked around the pool, wondering just how cool and refreshing that water might be, Heather came out from the pool house.
"G'day, babe," she said, wrapping her arms around me. "My instructions were obviously good enough..."
I silenced her as my mouth covered hers, kissing her deeply. Her lips were soft and moist, and as we kissed I felt little tingles of electricity flowing. I held her tightly against me, and she responded by taking my hand in hers, and pressing it to her breast. I felt her nipple hardening underneath the thin fabric of her dress.
That kiss – our first kiss in over thirty-seven years – seemed to last forever. I could feel myself becoming light-headed, until she broke away from me.
"Take my dress off, quickly, I need you right now, Will" she implored. "I've been waiting all morning, reading and re-reading our chat sessions, the emails you've sent me, your stories you've written for us – I've been so turned on for hours, I can't wait any longer."
At the same time, she was undoing the sash of my gown, pushing it from my shoulders, and leaving me standing in just my boxers. They had already started to form a tent in the front – my arousal quite visible to her.
"What's in here?" she asked, pulling down the front of my shorts. "Is that a present for me?"
"Let's get that dress off you," I said, reaching behind her to undo the zip.
I let her dress slip off her shoulders, and eased it from her. She was braless, which I had already guessed from the feel of her breast through her dress. I nuzzled her breasts, sucking on one erect nipple. She moaned softly.
"I don't have time or the need that," she said. "I'm soaking wet right now – I want you inside me."
Wynona
- 20.12.2020
- 13
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