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Reflections
By: Michael Lee
"The unexamined life is not
worth living." - Socrates
I am alone. It is late summer, and the still air is filled with the scent of freshly cut grass. The thick, humid air is alive with the delighted squeals of my children. I am alone, seemingly suspended over a great crevasse. The hammock I recline in cradles me in its protective grasp, rocking me with a gentle sway as my tired eyes are soothed by the rise of starlight. Leigh Ann and Jonathan, delighted with the results of my weekend project, continue to swing in great arcs from the newly constructed new swing set. It is a weekend, and I have allowed them the luxury of staying up past bedtime to explore the new addition to the backyard. My eyes feel inordinately heavy, and seem to be irritated by something. They are burning now, possibly from the sweat of the day's exertions. But as I begin to awaken, I realize the awful truth. The stinging in my eyes is not from the excursion of my afternoon labor of love. It is the result of the salt water that has invaded them. And the sway of the hammock is actually the movement of the sea, as I float on my back. The rope and canvas hammock has been replaced by the buoyancy of the life vest. And I am suddenly cold. Colder than I have ever been. Impossible it seems, to be so cold in late September, 300 miles northeast of Bermuda. But here I am, bobbing in the lonely, black sea. Alone. Frightened. And utterly without hope.
The day had begun with such promise. My 42 foot Beneteau, "The Maiden Voyage", had been battling a 20 knot breeze, so I trimmed the genoa in a few clicks and cranked in a little mainsheet. The boat was flying, literally surfing down the face of the large swells as she sliced through the foamy seas. The sky was magnificent, but the beauty of the rolling ocean masked the face of the monster sleeping below. By mid-afternoon, the wind had calmed, and the seas had tamed. She was still making an impressive 12 knots as I charted my course on the navigation table below deck. I calculated I would reach Bermuda slightly ahead of schedule. As I continued the tedious calculations, I had no way of knowing that events were already underway that would shatter my peaceful existence. Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, the random set of the waves was forming in a rare pattern. To the casual eye, the waves appeared normal in size, period, and speed of travel, but they were destined to synchronize at a specific point in the future, hundreds of miles away. The resulting wave will dwarf the surrounding seas in a freak display of nature, and the mountain of water called a rogue wave would swallow anything in its path. As I sat at the helm, watching the sunset off the port side, I sipped my gin and planned the evening. Single-handed sailing is not for the lazy, nor the faint of heart. Safety demands constant attention to the smallest detail, and sleep is a rarity. As a result, I slept in two-hour shifts, waking to check the autopilot and the anti-collision alarm. I logged my position, and maintained watch until ten o'clock that evening. By this time, the breeze had lightened, and the boat's hull speed had fallen to 8 knots. I went below, confidant that my boat was sound and would not fail me. Sleep came easily that night. The constant attention to the set of the sails and the trim of the boat had exhausted me, and when the alarm went off at midnight I felt I had just laid down minutes before. I shook the sleep from my head, and stumbled out of the berth. I pulled on my storm jacket and PFD, tossed open the hatch and stepped on to the deck. The night was a brilliant black, filled with a thousand stars. The high clouds that had dominated the afternoon sky had moved aside, and the clear air seemed to magnify the starlight. The moon was nowhere in sight, but the glow from the heavens lit the rails and the mast. The phosphorus from the bow wave created an eerie glow as the boat sliced through the sea. This was my favorite time. Midnight, with the world asleep around me, and only the sound of the wind in the sails and the water rushing past the hull to comfort me. The seas were mild, maybe four feet at the most, and the gentle movement of the boat beneath my feet seemed all too familiar. As I sat at the helm, I felt the change in the boat's movement. The trough since the last wave seemed wrong somehow. It seemed to be too long. And that is when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of a breaking wave in the darkness. I stood again and peered out into the blackness. The sound intensified, and I felt the boat begin to climb the face of the wave. Now I could see the shimmer of the foam, impossibly high, perhaps twenty feet or more. Suddenly the wave broke, sending tons of water crashing down upon the boat. I was slammed into the railing, and then the boat began to tip. It was over in less than a minute. The wave had knocked "The Maiden Voyage" on her side, and her fate was sealed when her mainsail filled with seawater. I was thrown violently into the railing, pain searing through me as I held on. My vision clouded as I was driven beneath the surface of the roiling waters. All sound seemed to cease, absorbed by the enormity of the sea surrounding me. And then, I exploded to the surface with a rush of air and a cry of pain. Ten feet from me, I caught sight of "The Maiden Voyage" as she settled quickly into the black sea, gurgling her death as the trapped air was expelled from her lungs. She took her final breath before slipping almost soundlessly beneath the waves. My journey had just begun.
I check my watch again. The radium dial assures me that it is only 4:15 am. I have entered my fourth hour of hell. The seas, once calm, have now turned their fury on me. A strong cold front pushing off the eastern shore has finally arrived, and with it, the quiet terror of the silent sea has been replaced by the absolute horror of the rage bestowed around me. I cannot catch my breath as every gasp yields another mouthful of seawater. But the worst thing is the cold. The light jacket, tee shirt, and shorts I am wearing are no match against the life stealing cold of the Atlantic. I can no longer feel my feet. As I struggle to remain calm against the growing hopelessness of my situation, my mind is suddenly turned back to my dream. The dream of the hammock, and of the swing. I close my eyes, and concentrate on the image before me. As if in answer to a prayer, the memories come flooding in. It is the summer of 98. Jonathan is six going on sixteen. Leigh Ann has just turned three. It is her birthday. Janie is inside, cleaning the party remnants from her spotless kitchen. Even here, in the middle of the Atlantic, the roar of the waves is transformed into the rush of wind through the pine needles. Time retreats, the hands of the clock now racing backwards. I see a birth, a wedding, and finally a dance. Janie's dance. I realize now that the stinging in my eyes has a new cause; the sudden memories have brought tears to my eyes as I am completely engulfed by the past. A past of promises broken, and futures cast aside.
"Oh, Alan, yes. Oh yes, baby. Please . . . please . . . ohhh yesss." Janie entered my life in the way that became her signature. The first time she spoke my name aloud was in the grips of an overwhelming orgasm. She lay beneath me, trembling with pleasure, her legs locked around my waist as I steadily fucked her. Her arms squeezed my biceps, encouraging me as I lunged at her. It was over in the span of fifteen minutes. I was in love by the time she reached her peak that night, announcing her arrival with joy as her soul opened as surely as I had opened her lovely thighs. It seemed too good to be true. I had just had sex with a girl I didn't even know thirty minutes ago, and now my mind could not release her. I couldn't bear the thought of having to leave the warmth of her delicate cunt, of having to withdraw from the loving comfort of her arms and legs. As she held me tightly inside, our eyes finally met. In that one instant, we both knew. It was right. It was ours. It was forever. I have heard that pleading cry of release thousands of times now. But it never sounded as sweet as that first night. The night that produced love from a situation usually blamed for crushing it. I first saw Janie on the dance floor at a frat party. She was obviously intoxicated, reeling from the beer just as surely as from the music. I was there with my friend and roommate, Jim. We had arrived just as the party began to swing. The dance floor was covered in pools of spilled beer and other unidentified liquids. The band played an eclectic mixture of dance music, some new, some old, and the infectious beat ensured a floor full of swaying young bodies. And there, in the middle of it all, was Janie. I watched her as I sipped my beer, noticing the way the light shone off her hair. Her long red curls framed her face, flushed pink from her exertions of the floor. She was dancing with Raymond, the frat whore. I could tell she was obviously inebriated, and it seemed only a matter of time before she fell victim to his well-known talents of luring beautiful women to his bed. As I watched them dance, I could see him take her in his arms. My heart ached as he pulled her closer, his strong hands now dipping to the swell of her round bottom. They began to move as one, in a close parody of the dance between the sheets they were sure to experience. I could barely contain my anger as his hands kneaded her ass, bunching the material of her skirt in his fists as he exposed her white cotton panties to the gaze of all around her. How can he get so lucky? I thought. What has he done to deserve a beauty like this? Just as I contemplated his luck, he took her one step closer to the inevitable by bending forward to kiss her. I had never seen such a passionate kiss. Their tongues fought each other, even as Raymond slipped his hand under the waistband of her panties. His hand disappeared between her firm cheeks and as he caressed her divide, she encouraged him by running her hand along the swell of his ass as well. Drunk or sober, she was clearly a willing participant in her exhibition. Still, my cheeks burned hot with desire and jealousy as I watched the display with awe. Finally, they stopped moving. Raymond took her face in his hands and whispered to her. She nodded, and they disengaged and walked from the floor hand in hand. As they passed by, she caught my eye. In that brief instance, something passed between us. Later, I would describe it as a recognition. A knowledge that her future lies in a different direction, and was not to be found under the onslaught of Raymond's storied cock. She paused as she faced me, and smiled at my stare before continuing on with Raymond. As I turned to watch her leave, she suddenly stopped, and whispered in his ear. She then turned, and walked somewhat unsteadily to the ladies room. As Raymond waited, his demeanor suddenly changed as he heard a shrill cry from across the room. A rather plain blonde with too much makeup and too much boob, walked straight up to him and slapped him hard, across both cheeks. I could have kissed Susan on the spot. Susan, Raymond's long-suffering girlfriend had finally seen the light. Raymond had obviously believed her story that she would be spending the night studying in the library, and his surprise was as evident as my pleasure. In a barrage of tears and sobs, she fled the house into the street. Raymond paused a moment, unsure of his next move, before deciding the steady diet of Susan's hot little pussy was worth more than the untested yet promising allure of the hot redhead on the dance floor. As he left the house, I turned and walked to the ladies room, waiting for her to reemerge. A minute later, she appeared, stopping to take a quick look around for her handsome date. "He's gone," I said, trying to look casually disaffected. "What?" she replied, obviously confused by my announcement. "Raymond. That's who you are looking for right?" "Are you saying he is gone?" "Yes. That's it. Gone. Susan just laid him out with a quick series of short jabs. TKO if you ask me," I said, barely containing my glee at the demise of the stud. Janie obviously knew who Susan was, and looked disappointed that the evening had taken such a turn. Then, she looked at me again. Once again, I saw the glint of recognition in her emerald eyes. As I stared, they seemed to grow slightly larger, as if trying to take all of me in at once, without allowing her eyes to leave mine. The moment was electric. I knew what had to be done. "Come on," I said, taking her by the hand. "Dance with me." At first she hesitated, uncertain about the events of the past few minutes. But then, I saw the smile and knew the answer even before the words crossed her lips. "Okay." We pushed our way back onto the floor, and as we turned to face each other, I leaned forward and kissed her. Just once, and only for the briefest possible instant. Many years later, she would ask me why I made such a sudden and unexpected move. I shrugged my shoulders, smiled, and kissed her just as I had done that night. Even after all those years, the smile I received was as bright as the one she wore on the dance floor that night. Fortunately, our timing was exquisite. The DJ ended his set of upbeat dance numbers with back to back slow ones. By the end of the second song, we were locked in our own passionate embrace. Unlike Raymond, my hands were nowhere near her ass, but our kisses were as hot and hungry as the ones she had experienced only minutes before. As the song ended, she pulled free to ask me a simple question, but one that would change our lives forever. "Hey, you want to go somewhere quiet?" I remember the walk to my dorm. I remember her smell, and the feel of her hand in mine. I have long since forgotten the words that passed between us as we walked, and yet the song of her speech remains etched on my soul. I hear her song even now. I remember my desire, white hot and urgent, yet tempered with another feeling. This one was different, I thought. She is . . . perfect. Time would prove me wrong in many aspects of our life, but at that one moment, she was . . . perfect. Our first private dance began within seconds of entering my room. As the door closed behind me, she was again in my arms. We moved as we had before, with a passion I would later reflect on as almost desperate in intensity. Her desire, coupled with the alcohol still coursing through her system impeded her natural grace. My hands finally found her firm bottom as our tongues continued their fevered explorations. I felt rather than heard her moan as I pushed her panties to the floor. As soon as the flimsy material was on the floor, she began to grind her now exposed pussy on my thigh. I lifted the short skirt to allow her bare skin to contact the denim of my jeans. Our kisses grew hot as she straddled my leg, rubbing her pussy slowly against me. I could barely stand as she pushed at me. Finally, I stumbled and we both fell sprawling on the bed. Janie took advantage of this momentary lull in the action to change to pace of the dance. Without missing a beat, she reached for my belt. In one swift and sure movement, she released the buckle and pushed my pants down and away from my hips. She pulled the material completely off my legs, making a small show as she tossed them to the floor. Her eyes now moved to my crotch, and they took in the sight of my hardness as it pushed my boxers into a noticeable peak. She placed her hands on either side of my aching cock and tugged at the material until the thick purple head peeked out at her from the fly. One more tug and the head suddenly popped through the opening. Her hands went to work. She grabbed my cock, firmly encircling the shaft with her fingers, and began to slide her hand slowly down the length of me. I wanted to lie back, but I remained propped up on my elbows, afraid to miss any of the scenes now playing out in front of me. Janie licked my shaft with a knowing pressure, quickly eliciting the shiny drop she obviously craved from the tip. It appeared as a testament to her skills, to the manner in which she could arouse me. Even today, after many years of the combined joys and pains that constitute any marriage, she could arouse me as no other. Suddenly, she stopped her movements and looked directly at me. She smiled as she bent forward and, never taking her eyes from mine, softly licked the glistening drop from my cock. The touch of her warm, wet tongue sent shivers down my spine. Janie kept her focus on my eyes as she circled the thick head with her tongue tip. Her exquisite torture continued, teasing me into a state of sexual hysteria, before she finally relinquished and began stuffing my cock down her throat. Deeper and deeper still she took me, her lips stretching to accommodate my member. She stopped only as her nose pressed into my patch of dark course hair. And the assault began. The slow, gentle, and deliberate caresses from before were now in sharp contrast to the wild abandon she now displayed. Her head bobbed up and down my shaft in a manic display of superb cock sucking. She would pull my cock from her wet mouth only to nip at the tip or flick her tongue in rapid fluttering licks across my head. She was amazing, possessing an ability I had never dared to imagine. The face of an angel was sucking cock, my cock, with the fervor of a common whore. I was in heaven. Her efforts were rewarded sooner than either of us could have imagined. Despite the numbing effects of the beer, and my constant attempts to extend the pleasure, I lasted no more than three minutes under her attentions. In a cry filled with almost as much embarrassment as pleasure, I called out to her, and unleashed my flood upon her. The explosions were paralyzing in their intensity. Wave after wave of intense sensation rippled through me, as I pumped her lovely mouth full of cum. As the first blast hit her throat, she pulled to the end, allowing my cum to flow freely into her mouth. Her hand now pulled on me, forcing each drop from me, even as her tongue continued to playfully flick the head as I emptied into her. As the torrent finally subsided, she freed my soft, wet cock from her lovely lips, and moved up my chest to kiss me. I can still recall the first taste of my cum as she shared my love with me that night. I could not bear to offend her, so I took her offering with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. And with the promise of the evening still before me, I took it with pleasure. It would become a pleasure we would routinely revisit, even when we were at our worst together. It now seems to me that her act of sharing my seed became our private affirmation of mutual love. She seemed to say, if I will do this, you shall too. As long as I accepted her offer, we were still connected somehow. That offering and acceptance only ended when the inevitability of our divorce became certain. And even then, it only ended with the complete cessation of all sexual relations. But the last taste we shared was as decadently exquisite as the first. We finished undressing as we kissed, and her hand led mine to her most treasured possession. She placed my hand directly on her soft, and thoroughly wet pussy. Unwilling to let me set the pace of my initial exploration of her, she parted the silky lips with her own fingers, gently strumming her little clit as she frantically searched for the orgasm she obviously sensed within. I watched, utterly engrossed by her assertive display, noting the rhythm and timing of her touch. When I replaced her fingers with mine, I knew the steps to the personal dance she had perfected. I reached into her with both hands, opening her with one, while inserting first one finger, then two more, as the other hand assumed the lead in the pursuit of her pleasure. And suddenly, just as with me, she was there. She threw her head back, as the words of delirious passion escaped her lips. She called to me, begging me to make her come. Please, oh please, she called out. And I answered with my touch. The touch that would soon know her every fold, her every ridge. I would learn to memorize her pussy with my hands, the feel of her clit, the softness of her hair, the warmth of her cunt, the firmness of her tunnel. Her contractions surrounded my fingers as they probed her depths, and their force and rhythm bore silent testimony to the intensity of her pleasure. Once she had finished, I added my own ritual of affirmation. I took my hand from her steaming depths and immediately placed the fingers just to her lips. Without saying a word, she opened her mouth. She did not take them into her mouth, she waited for me to push them inside. She was willing to accept my offering passively, to indicate that she would always do anything, anything I ever desired her to do. As I inserted my fingers into her mouth, allowing her to clean each digit, I understood the dialog we were having. Although our dialog did not contain words, none were needed as we made our silent commitments to each other through the uninhibited sexuality we displayed that night. She would later say she had never felt so completely in love. She had never felt so open, so adored, so unafraid, as she did that night. Silently I moved between her open thighs. The moment had arrived, and we were poised at the threshold of knowing the truth. I knew even before I sank into her depths that I was a changed man. We had already walked to the altar that night, and as I lowered into her the words formed in my mind although I did not dare release them. As she thrust her open cunt at me, swallowing my hardness deep inside, she breathed the words that I had just imagined. "Oh, God. Oh God I love you so." The expression of that sentiment lit the fuse to our bodies, as we attempted to absorb each other within ourselves. Our union became just that, a joining of two souls, connected in the most intimate way. We didn't fuck, although we pleaded with each other to do exactly that. Janie begged me to fuck her, to fuck her, to please just fuck her. I spoke the harsh words back to her, to affirm that yes I will fuck you, just you, only you, loving the delightful impact they made as they landed on her. She wrapped her strong legs around me, pulling me even further inside. I now pounded her, fucking her with long smooth strokes, filling her tight cunt with my hard flesh. I could feel the very center of her, hot and wet, soft and firm, as I opened her as no other before me. I opened her heart to mine, and together they joined that very night. Somewhere in the air above our writhing sweaty bodies, our souls also made love. Finally the end of our journey was upon us. "Oh, Alan, yes. Oh yes, baby. Please . . . please . . . ohhh yesss." She announced her orgasm with glee, and her body's response to my presence only affirmed what we had already known. As I continued to pump away, she opened her eyes, and took in my gaze. "I love you, Alan. I don't know how it can be, but I do." I couldn't speak, so I answered her in the way she always treasured the most. I screamed out her name, and poured my love past her swollen and open pussy lips, through the ravaged canal, and into her very soul. Later, as we separated and lay apart on the bed, our souls continued to make love above us, oblivious to the consequences, content to love forever. Janie and I always spoke to one another sexually. It was our gift, our special and unique way of communication. We made love every day until our first child was born. And then, once the post-partum period had elapsed, we continued our affirmations of love until the very night Leigh Ann was born. Don't misunderstand, we fought just as with every normal couple. But we never took the arguments to bed. Sometimes they would resume the next morning, but the nights belonged to our love. Somehow, after Leigh Ann was born, we failed to resume our ritualistic couplings. Oh, we still made love, but now we could go days without touching each other. Before long, the days turned into a week, the week into two. Looking back, I'm sure it had more to do with me than with Janie, at least at the beginning. Janie never failed to make love when asked. And she would fuck with the same intensity as our first coupling. And yet, I wasn't interested. And as she wasn't used to having to ask, she let things slide as well. I didn't know it, but I had let the monster into our bed without even a fight. I never saw it coming. Funny how things seem so normal, and yet a new reality has taken over. Janie and I continued to have sex periodically, and she never lacked enthusiasm. We continued our ritualistic sharing of our fluids, even though our commitment to the act had weakened. She would tell me later that it had started on Leigh Ann's first birthday. Now, that day seems to be a bizarre anniversary of sorts. We were cooking hotdogs on the grill for the scattering of friends and family we had invited for the party. Our neighbors, Joey and Alicia, were there, along with others as we celebrated Leigh Ann's first year of life. The fact that her birth exactly one year earlier doomed our marriage now seems to be a cruel display of fate. Her arrival precipitated my withdrawal, and led to the emptiness inside Janie that she looked elsewhere to fill. It turns out she looked no further than to Joey. He took her for the first time in our bathroom off the kitchen, as I cooked wieners on the grill. She and Joey had found themselves alone in the kitchen, opening buns and spreading mustard and ketchup when Janie accidentally squirted ketchup on Joey's shorts. Years later, after I had discovered her betrayal, she described to me what happened next. Janie had pulled Joey into the bathroom to get a cloth and clean up the mess. It all started so innocently, she said. But as she wiped his leg with the cloth, she noticed with some embarrassment that he was getting an erection. Never one to shy away from a good tease, Janie giggled slightly, and made a little remark that he seemed to be enjoying the attention his leg was getting. Joey never missed as beat as he took her hand and placed it directly on his growing cock without saying a word. And that was all it took. As she felt him reach his full length, all she could think of was how he would taste, and what he would feel like inside of her. She hoped he could make her come, and she wanted to come right then. Janie dropped the cloth, locked the door and unzipped his shorts. For the first time since she had met me, Janie now had a new cock in her mouth. She sucked him furiously, recalling with guilt and shame the fervor of her first encounter with me. As she sucked him, she vowed to only let it go this far. She told herself that it wasn't really cheating if she didn't come too. And that's when it happened. Joey grabbed her by the hair and fucked her open mouth with abandon. He was large, and the action hurt her jaw, but she couldn't stop. And then he came. Janie sucked him and took it all in, but as she stood she contemplated the final betrayal. She had to know if Joey could be as loving and accepting as I, and without a further thought, offered Joey a chance to affirm her love. Unfortunately for me, he accepted, and together they consumed his seed. That was the beginning of their affair, an affair that lasted for three years. Of course, Janie wasn't able to keep her vow, and they fucked the next time they saw each other. I never suspected a thing, and although Janie and Joey were having sex almost daily, I never sensed anything out of the ordinary. I suppose it shows just how far I had drifted from Janie that I never suspected she had taken a lover. Janie and I continued to make love, although we only did it once a week or so. But even then, we continued to offer and accept our mutual affirmations of love. The thought that her mouth had been on Joey only a few hours before each of those affirmations horrified me when I learned of the betrayal, and in some ways was worse than the sexual act itself. But the path had been taken that would ultimately end our journey together.
It's said a lifetime flashes before the eyes of the dying, that years pass in split seconds. Maybe the pace of one's dying determines the sequence of the replay, but for me it has taken hours. Night is finally ending, relinquishing its hold on the earth as the sun takes its place. As the dawn lifts night's curtain, I realize I have to face the inevitable. My body is completely numb now, and I am continually fighting the urge to drink seawater. The spray has cracked my lips, which now sting and bleed freely. I had hoped for a miracle, that perhaps I would see the silhouette of a ship, or the outline of land as the sun rose, but all I see is ocean. What once was beautiful is now haunting. I am paralyzed by the notion that my last sight will be of unbroken horizon, water and sky. I spent the night replaying various scenes from my life as a way of keeping my mind focused. I knew I could not sleep, for if I did, the elements would over take me, and the end would come. I played the events in no particular order, but they seemed to focus on my relationships. The movie playing in my mind showed only the moments that affected me the most - such as the first time I made love to Janie. Now, however, a new image begins to form in my mind. A face emerges from the dark recesses of my memory. As the image rolls in the mist of my mind, I begin to silently pray, hoping for salvation, but knowing it will never come. Instead, I close my tear-filled eyes, summoning the face from the past. The face of an angel. Once again, I see her. Tara, my lovely Princess. I see her clearly now, turning to look at me from her position on the beach towel. She is tan, her blonde hair wet from the sea. She looks at me, laughing at the possibilities before us. Time had stopped for us those few days. We lived each moment together as if they were our last moments on this earth. We lived as if we were dying. I suppose now that I was. For our paths that traveled together those few days inevitably separated, leading me to this moment. If I had stayed by her side, would my path have brought me to death's very door? Could it be that she had been the salvation that now eludes me?
I met Tara on spring break, as I was finishing my senior year of college. I had driven down to the so-called Redneck Riviera with three friends for a week of fun at Orange Beach, Alabama. We were staying at the Hilton, preparing ourselves for one last wild fling before we were dragged kicking and screaming into the world of responsibility and commitment. That afternoon, we were tossing the football on the beach. Russ had a bad habit of occasionally overthrowing, and one of his errant passes landed a few feet in front of me. The ball took a typical football bounce, landing neatly on the beach towel of a pretty young blonde lying on her stomach. As I jogged over, I immediately noticed the lovely shape of her bottom, as well as the smooth line of her back. Her bikini top was untied to allow complete exposure to the sun, and as I bent forward to pick up the ball, she rolled to one side to look at me. She held her top in one hand, the material barely covering her ample breasts. But the thing I noticed the most were her eyes. I had never seen such beautiful, clear blue eyes. After a few more tosses, I made my way back to her towel and asked if I could sit down with her. She agreed, and soon after our introductions, we were talking about everything under the sun. She was 18 years old, just, and was a senior at the local high school. I exaggerated my stature somewhat, attempting to woo her with tales of heroic deeds at college and elsewhere, but despite my bravado, she saw exactly what she was looking at. Me. The real me. I was immediately taken with her southern charm and striking beauty. She was so young and fresh, and her smile and quick wit were intoxicating. I asked her out for dinner within thirty minutes of our introduction. She agreed to go, with a smile so lovely that my previous commitments for the evening were immediately forgotten. Later, Russ chided me relentlessly as I told him of my plans. As I prepared to leave the hotel later that evening, he made one last attempt to change my mind. "Alan, are you kidding me? A high school girl for God's sake? What are you doing?" "Come on, Russ, you saw her. She isn't just a high school girl. She is more than that. She is, well, . . . special." "Yeah, a special one way ticket to jail, you fucking loser." "Aw, man, she's eighteen. She told me." Russ laughed. "Oh, she told you did she? And we all know girls never lie about their ages now, don't we? She's probably fifteen, with a Dad that just loves shooting college punks that try to fuck his daughter." I was getting angry with him by now, and it showed in my voice. "Russ, that's enough. I'm going out with her. If you don't like it, then go to Hell." "Alan, come on. Look, I just don't want to see you get in a mess here. Not when there are plenty of college girls here that want to have a good time with someone just like you." He was right of course, but I didn't care. "I know. I'll be careful. Hey if it makes you feel better, I'll card her, okay?" "Okay ole buddy. You go have fun with your little prom date. See you later tonight." As I walked out the door, I wasn't thinking of carding her. I wasn't thinking about fucking her. I was only thinking of one thing. And that was how I would come up with enough jokes to keep her smiling all night long. The rest didn't matter. We met at the hotel pool, and I was taken with her once again. She had on a lovely little sundress, with lively, cheerful colors that brightened her smile. She was stunning, and I was over my head. I took her hand and led her to the restaurant. The maitre' de led us to a private booth, taking our wine order before leaving us alone. We talked over wine and appetizers, and I immediately noticed her maturity as well as her physical grace. I couldn't keep my eyes from her face, but I was moved by her words just as surely as her eyes. Not that we talked of any real important earth shattering issues, we just talked. By the end of dinner, all I could think of was this girl. We walked hand in hand back to the pool, where I sat in a chaise lounge. She sat in my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her waist as we stared at the lights surrounding us. We didn't speak. We had said all we needed to tonight, and yet another conversation was just beginning. I held still, feeling her breathe, inhaling her fresh, clean scent. Her head was on my shoulder, and as I held her, I placed my lips to her graceful neck. I felt her relax in my arms as I nuzzled her neck. The pace of her breathing began to increase, and she shifted slightly in my arms, encouraging me to go further. I needed no encouragement however, as my hands now joined the caresses offered by my lips. I moved my hand slightly upwards, grazing the underside of her breast, gauging her reaction to my advances. A soft moan escaped her lips as she answered by arching her back to present her breasts to me. I continued my advance and my hands finally reached their destination. I caressed her gently, one breast in each hand, as her nipples responded to my touch. She wore no bra, and only the thin material separated her flesh from mine. I wasted no time in removing the obstacle as I eased the straps from her shoulders and pulled the front of her dress below her heaving breasts. The cool air coupled with her excitement raised her nipples to twin, stiff peaks begging for my attention. I moved my hands back to her breasts, and gently pulled and rolled the delicate points with my fingers. Tara was in heaven. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and her legs began to open as she ground her ass into my growing erection. I wanted her badly, but I knew that we should stop before we lost control of our passions. "Tara, we should stop before someone sees us." She didn't seem to hear me, and her hand finally found the hardness pressing into her lower back. She squeezed my cock as I continued to massage her tits. I knew that we were lost, lost in a passion that had to be satisfied, lest we go crazy with desire and lust. "Tara." "Shhh, baby," she whispered. "No one is here. We are alone and it is dark. No one will know what we are doing." With that, she began to release my belt and unsnap my pants. Her searching hands reached inside and within seconds she was holding my throbbing cock. "Oh, yeah, Alan. This is what I need," she breathed, as she began stroking my cock. "God, I'm so hot. I just can't stand it any more. Come on, Alan, fuck me, okay? Let's just do it." I wanted nothing more than to fuck her, right there, in front of God and anyone else that happened by, but I had to be sure. "You sure, Tara? Cause if you're not, we can stop. Just say so." "Shhh, Alan. No more talk. Please." I gave in to my passions. I let my desire take control, and our fate was sealed. Immediately, I lowered my hand to the hem of her dress and raised it to her waist. I placed my hands directly on her crotch, marveling at the softness of her cotton covered mound. She was obviously excited, and her panties were already wet to the touch. I pressed the damp material into her opening as she let out a sharp cry and opened her legs even further. My fingers traced the outline of her pussy, stopping to dip into the leg band of her panties, finally reaching the delicate softness of her cunt. Tara removed her hand from my cock and pulled her panties off. She turned around, and sat down, straddling my cock as she stared into my eyes. I could feel her soft, wet slit as she slowly circled her hips. My cock began to slide inside her, but our position wouldn't quite allow penetration. But the sensation of her soft hair and skin on my shaft lifted me into a heightened state of desire and anticipation. I don't know if she intended to affect me that way, but I was hopelessly lost in her. All I wanted was to stay right there, locked in her gaze as we sat at the brink of the most priceless of unions. I wanted to be the only one in her mind as well as her body. I wanted to shut out any thoughts of any other man. I wanted to be hers, alone, always. Tara couldn't wait any longer. She wanted me inside, and in a breathless whisper, told me exactly that. She reached down and took my cock in her small hand. As she leaned forward, we kissed, and then, I was inside. All at once, she surrounded me. Her warmth, wetness, and velvety tightness wrapped my shaft in a delicious bath of love. I had never been so moved by the simple act of lovemaking as I was that evening. Looking back, I think it was, quite simply, perfect. As she sank down on me, she stopped as she reached bottom. And then we kissed. For how long, I have no idea. Maybe it was only a few minutes, but time seemed to stand still for us. The night sky appeared to move around her as I watched her passion grow. Tara was bathed in the light of a thousand stars as well as the light from my eyes, and in that spotlight she finally began to move. We broke the kiss as she began to rock and sway on my cock. She let her body move in a completely natural way as her passions directed her responses. I sat still, and allowed her to take charge of my body. I wanted her to use me solely for her pleasure, to seek out her need with the tools I offered. I existed only to satisfy her longings, and to quench her desire. Slowly, she began to increase her pace. Her mood shifted, and the tender, loving pace she had set began to change. I could see the fire growing in her eyes, signaled by the flush on her chest. I held her firm hips in my hands, aiding her movements. The heat of her pussy seemed to grow, and I could feel her honey spilling from her, surrounding my cock in a lovely lubricant while bathing my balls with her wetness. I could hear the sound of her cunt as it sucked my cock inside with each thrust. Up and down she danced, faster. Faster still. I held on to her, encouraging her with whispered comments. "That's it, Tara. That's perfect, baby. God you are so beautiful. That's it, fuck me. Just like that. Fuck me, Tara." She began to fly now, as her hand fell between us to aid in her release. "Oh, God, Alan. I'm . . . Oh . . . fuck . . . Oh God, I'm . . . coming! Yes, oh yesss!" I thrust my cock into her as hard as I could as she began to come. She gasped with pleasure, then buried her face in my chest, kissing me wildly, as I held her hips steady and continued my strong thrusts. On and on we went, and as soon as she came down from her orgasm, I began to feel the beginnings of mine. It was upon me in no time, and as the familiar pressure began to build, my mind suddenly focused on one powerfully intoxicating feeling. Despite my knowledge in the impossibility of it, my head now agreed with my heart. As my passions climaxed, I filled her with the very essence of love. I held her tightly, feeling my cum as it poured from her tortured cunt onto my lap, and then I opened my heart to her. "Oh God, Tara. I can't believe it. That was . . . heavenly." "Shhh, Alan. Just hold me. I'm here. Right here." "Tara, I have to say something. I've never met anyone like you. I'm completely infatuated by you, in every possible way. I haven't been able to think since I first looked into you eyes. Tara, I don't know what I am going to do." She took my face in her soft hands and once again I was lost in her clear blue eyes. "Alan . . . I . . ." "Look Tara, I know you must think I have completely lost it, and maybe I have, but hear me out. Sometimes, you just know. You have to trust your heart to know when it's right. My heart screams for you Tara. Do you know what it tells me?" "Alan . . . please . . ." "It tells me you are the one I have dreamed of. The one I have been looking for. Tara, I think I'm falling in love with you." She was silent. Her eyes shone with a feeling she wasn't prepared to express. In her words, I heard what she wanted to believe, what she wanted me to believe. But her eyes told the truth. The truth that her words couldn't erase. "Oh, Alan. I'm . . . flattered. Really I am. And, somehow, I care deeply for you. But we just met today. I can't love you, Alan. I don't love you. Still, I love being with you. Oh God, I hope I'm not upsetting you with this." I smiled at her then, for I had seen the answer. And I knew that our situation wouldn't permit our impossible feelings to exist. I knew that although the girl was perfect, the timing wasn't. She was too young, and too far away. In the cruelest twist of fate, our time wasn't then. Nor would it ever be. And despite the years that have passed since that night, despite the true love I would later find with Janie, I knew what I had missed. I had been right all along. Tara had been the one. The perfect one for me. The one I would never have again.
Now, fate's twist seems unusually harsh. As I rise and fall through a thousand wave crests, I think of what might have been. The reflection of the sun as it rises from the sea gives me pause to reflect on my life. There seemed to be twin suns above me, one rising, and the other setting. The two suns represented completely different paths, just as the two loves of my life had. Each choice I had made sent me in a different direction. Some choices were clear, their outcomes known all along. Other remained shrouded by mist, the final destination remaining hidden for years to come. As I remember Tara, as I remember those lovely eyes, I wonder where I would be today if I had chosen her to accompany me on my journey. Would I have ended up here? Perhaps my life was always destined to end on this day, only at the hands of a drunk driver instead of the cold Atlantic. Would Tara have grieved me then as my wife? Would she grieve me now? My mind spins as I think of all the seemingly insignificant events that led me to this point. What if I had left the dock thirty minutes later? Would the wave that destroyed my boat have fallen on empty seas instead? What if I had missed that phone call? The one that ended my life with Janie, and started me on the path that led here. What if I had gone to lunch that day five minutes earlier? Would I be here today, facing my last moments on earth, completely and utterly alone?
I died for the first time on a Thursday, at 12:23 p.m. I had just completed a report on new advances in variable frequency drive efficiency, and I decided to take a few extra minutes to polish up the title page. As I typed in the last line, the phone rang. "This is Alan." "Alan? Hey it's Sam. Did you bring the tickets?" "Ah, shit Sam. I completely forgot. Look, I have a few minutes right now, so I'll just swing home to get them, okay?" "Hey thanks, man. I really appreciate you going through the trouble for me like this. I owe you one." Of course, that was exactly why I had gotten them in the first place. Sam was a powerful man, with lots of influence. He was the kind of guy that returned favors, tenfold. So, I hurried to the parking lot to get my car. I could get the tickets, and still have time to pick up a sandwich on the way back. Even as I pulled in the drive, I didn't notice anything particularly upsetting. I never suspected Janie would be unfaithful, she just wasn't that type. So even the sight of Joey's car in our drive didn't ring any alarm bells. But as I walked up to the side door, I saw them. Janie was on the couch, naked, and Joey was kneeling between her open thighs. His face was buried in her beautiful pussy. Despite the shock, I couldn't take my eyes from her face. She had that look, the look of complete abandon, the look she used to get with me. Her hands were holding tightly to Joey's head as she guided him to her secret place. I could hear her cries as she fucked his tongue with her cunt. Suddenly she froze, and I knew what was about to happen. My heart broke in a thousand pieces as I heard my wife cry to her lover. "Oh, Joey, yes. Oh yes, baby. Please . . . please . . . ohhh yesss." I knew it was over. I knew I was watching the end of my life with Janie. But I couldn't look away. I watched them as Joey stood from between her thighs. Her shaved cunt glistened with a mixture of cum and saliva. As Joey stood, Janie reached for him, and removed his pants. He kept his shirt and tie on as she took his cock in her hand and knelt before him. Joey arched his back, presenting his full length to her. Janie took his cock in her hand and seemed to study it as she stroked him to full length. He was big. Janie's small hand could barely wrap around his girth, and her delicate features and slim frame only served to heighten the size of his cock. It seemed to loom before her, threatening her fragility with its pure wanton lust. I actually felt concern for her, fearful for the coming invasion of her small and tender pussy. Janie soon stopped her adoration of his manhood, and bent forward to take him in her mouth. The mouth that had kissed mine only a few hours earlier now wrapped around another man's cock. The lips that had smiled as the preacher asked of her "Will you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband" now smiled as they encircled a huge cockhead. The tongue that had tasted my seed that first night so many years ago, now hungered for the seed of another. Janie sucked him with her usual gusto, but thankfully Joey didn't want to come just yet. Despite the horrific sights I was seeing, I don't think I could have taken the sight of Janie drinking his cum as she did mine. Knowing they were about the fuck was hard enough. Joey pulled her from his cock, and Janie was obviously surprised. I knew how much she loved it when I came in her mouth, and I could only assume it was just as exciting, if not more so, with Joey. But as he kissed her, she smiled and then turned around. She looked over her shoulder as she presented her ass to him. My heart was pounding as I watched her. She looked so lovely, even now, that I couldn't turn away. She knew how to turn me on, and even if she didn't know I was there, she could still press my erotic buttons. Joey took his cock and rubbed it into her divide. I could see the need on her face and I knew this was what she loved. Not me, but Joey. I could see the lust in her eyes, and in her cunt as she dripped with her anticipation. Her legs were quivering with desire, and she could barely stand. And then it was upon her. Despite his massive size, he slid into Janie quickly and easily. They began to fuck with a furious passion, and Joey relentlessly pounded her tiny pussy. I had never seen Janie get fucked so hard, and I surely had never done it with such force. But it seemed to be exactly what she needed. I could hear her screams. Her calls shook me to the core. The sight and sounds of Janie's betrayal broke me, and I began to cry. As Joey finally called out to her, my heart took the final blow. Joey came deep inside my wife as she cried out to him. Not to me. To him. "Oh God, Joey. Oh I love you so. I love you, baby." I don't remember the rest of that day. I know I didn't go back to work. I drove aimlessly for hours, and it was after ten when I finally worked up the nerve to come home. The cell phone had been ringing constantly since six, and I knew she was worried. But as I walked in the door, she froze. It must have been on my face, for she immediately burst into tears. "How could you, Janie?" "Oh God, Alan. Oh God, I am so sorry. Please, baby, believe me, it wasn't anything. I'm so sorry. Please talk to me!" She was crying, but I couldn't feel anything for her anymore. Maybe I would have believed her assurances if I had not seen it with my own eyes. "Janie, I saw you. With him. This afternoon. I saw the whole thing. I heard you tell him you loved him. Tell me, Janie. Right now. I have to know. Do you love him?" She wouldn't answer. "Do you? DO YOU?" She shook as I screamed at her. But she never answered. I suspect that was her way of telling me. Just as we seemed to speak volumes with our silence over the years, this last soliloquy said it perfectly. And it was over. Just like that. We were divorced within six months. That summer, following the divorce, I bought "The Maiden Voyage". I guess I needed a distraction, and I figured a new boat would be less likely to break my heart. Little did I know the sails had been set for the final journey that would lead me to the end of everything.
It's cold again. The numbness has been replaced once again by a bone chilling cold. I can no longer move. The life jacket keeps my face above water, but only by the slimmest of margins. I begin hallucinating again. I watch my children play around me, swinging in high arcs above my head, laughing as I lunge at them. I see Janie, in her wedding dress, smiling at me. I see the beach. Warm and sunlit. Bathed in golden light. And there on a towel, is Tara. I can see them both now, these two women that I have loved. The only women I have ever loved. They were so different from each other that I am stunned I could have loved them both. Tara was the polar opposite of my future wife - petite and curvy versus tall and slender. Blonde versus red. Tara possessed an enthusiasm for life she could not hide, which stood in sharp contrast to Janie's calm, cool elegance. Janie was everything Tara was not. The pangs of regret fill my mind as I considered once again what might have been. Suddenly, it becomes clear to me. How could I have missed it? The answer lies with my hallucination. My decisions ultimately led to the creation of beauty far beyond Janie's love. Despite her flaws, she had given me the greatest gift I had ever received - my children. And despite our problems, or perhaps even because of them, I still love her in ways known only to me, for she is the mother of my children, and will always be my wife. She was the one true love. She had shared my delights, and tasted my defeats. She aided and abetted my every struggle, providing the resistance I needed to spring at the world, and the cushion I needed to break my inevitable falls. But she couldn't provide the cushion now. Here in my darkest hour, I am totally alone. Or am I? Suddenly, I feel a warmth rise inside of me. My hands, no longer numb, now tingle with life as the blood fills the vessels. My mind, once clouded by death's steady march, has now snapped to attention. Janie is here, even now. Despite all that has happened, she is here. Her eyes shine, full of tears and overflowing with understanding as she softly sings to me. Her song is accompanied by the lilting rhythm of the sea, an orchestra of light and sound heard only in my soul. She sings to lift my spirits, she sings to bring me peace. And as she sings the final lullaby, I hear the voice of my daughter, the voice from years past. The sweet music of Leigh Ann's voice echoes from the heavens in the words of the three-year-old I so dearly loved. She is tired from swinging, and is looking up at me. "Daddy, can we go in now? I'm sleepy." I answer, speaking the words aloud to the cold, unforgiving sea, "Yes, we can go. Come on, Sunshine, it's time for bed."
She takes my hand, and leads me home.
Thank you for reading my story. Please take a few moments to send any comments you may have about the story. Your comments are completely anonymous, unless you choose to include your email address. If you include your email address, I'll send you a personal reply as soon as I can. Your input will help me continue to write the type of stories you want. Thanks!
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