Chapter 8

The following day I still hadn't heard from Harry or from Carol. I thought for sure that they would be at work, but they weren't. I went through my paces at the library in fitful anxiety. There had to be some way to beat the pain, the ache that was destroying me.

By the end of the day, I couldn't face the idea of my empty apartment. It was like death, thinking of driving home, of climbing those stairs alone, of fixing myself a lonely meal and then the endless evening of solitude and empty flesh.

I drove out to Cranberry Beach, to the end of the point where the stark waters surrounded the light house. There was quite a wind picking up there and it helped to assuage the bleakness of my mood.

I needed to be alone, away from the people who had no idea that I was being consumed in self-pity, in guilt, in self-destruction. What had I expected? Had I really deep down inside of me desired and hoped that Harry would fall madly in love with me, would devote his young body to the needs of my older one.

And what of Carol, wasn't she a women, even though she had expressed no desire to have a man? Yes, a young woman, who would change her mind perhaps if she found a sensitive, beautiful young man like Harry. Someone intelligent and someone so naturally skilled in sexuality that a woman could not resist his person.

I knew now as I sat in the wet sand looking out over the ocean at the sun going down, that they were most certainly having an affair, an affair that was better and stronger than any that I had had with both of them.

I forced myself to look at it from a different angle. Didn't I love both of them, hadn't they done some nice things for me, hadn't they made me aware of being a woman, of being a young woman still, with the desires and needs of a young woman?

Of course they had and why should I want more, why was it that I wanted everything to last forever, why couldn't I just look at that thing with Harry and Carol in the same way I had with the two young men on the beach that night?

Because I was lonely, my flesh crawled for caresses, for someone to always give me what I needed, for the comfort that a strong man with a stiff prick could give.

But not for a night, not for random moments scattered throughout two lives, no, I needed much more than that. But it seemed to be a terrible problem. How could I love someone that wasn't as beautiful and young as Harry, as soft and tempered as Carol?

In other words, how could I love a man my own age, someone with the imperfections and scars of aging, the cynical viewpoints and the fading prowess?

I sat there thinking those sad, impossible thoughts for a terribly long time. It grew darker all around me and the wind blew harder and chillier all the time. It didn't matter, it didn't matter that my ears and nose were stinging with the edge in the wind, that my eyes were tearing from the blown sand.

I was lost to my body, to my thoughts, to the feeling that, at the age of thirty-five, my life was finished, that I had woven myself into an impossible net of mediocrity where the only thing that I could do would be to grow older.

It was at that point that I saw the man come out of the lighthouse and begin to walk along the beach. I watched him indifferently as if he were a seabird or something. He walked slowly along the edge of the waves and he seemed to be a tall man with a strong, nice walk.

As he came closer I noticed that he was a handsome man, deeply tanned, with dark wavy hair, hair like Harry's. He appeared to be walking closer and closer, and I wondered if he was going to approach me.

I stood up as he approached, his hands in his pockets and a slight smile on his face. I waited until he got only a few feet away and I raised my hand in a slight greeting, unsmiling.

I looked into that face and I instantly recognized who he was. It was unmistakable. Those jagged lines, the high brow, the deep eyes, the slightly wild hair. It was Harry all right, but an older Harry, a mature Harry, an even more beautiful Harry because there was something of the world in this man, an aura of long stories and long voyages and something else, an aura of peace of contentment with life, of someone who had found a place to live in this cruel world.

I was stopped in my tracks, startled by the beauty and the strength in this man. His form was impressive, he made me feel stupid, small, numb. Suddenly the full import of what I had been doing with my life was clear to me, I felt wretched because of that.

But then again, I felt bedazzled, happy to see this man, happy to see that he existed in the cold world.

He moved closer to me to talk, his eyes never leaving my eyes. "I saw you from the lighthouse," he said, "You've been here for hours, you must be freezing." He took one of my hands in his and held it. His hands were tanned, strong and large. They were like roadmaps of his life.

I tilted my head back, my hair was blowing all around my face, I pushed it back with the hand not being held and I looked into those wonderful eyes.

"I'm all right," I said, "I only wanted to be alone."

The man gestured toward the lighthouse, "Come with me back to my house, it's a marvelous place to be alone, but its also warm. I will give you some coffee and if you want you can talk to me. If not, than you can climb up into the lighthouse I think you would like it there."

I nodded to him and he took my arm and led me back across the beach, down to the point in the rocks where the waves slapped mercilessly on the shore, the gulls flapping and screaming and the wind even harder.

I was filled with an exalting sense of freedom and depth, my body wired from the windy stimulus, from the meeting of this man. From the hours of self-pity that had drained my mind and my soul.

But now I felt better, as if someone had intervened in my life and said, wait a minute, here's another moment for you that you will like.

We went into his little house. It was a lovely place, all rich, dark wood and shuttered windows, well lighted with oil lamps and a franklin stove with a mellow fire burning.

I was offered a chair in the kitchen and as the warmth of the room spread through my bones I realized how cold I was. I also realized that I probably looked like the devil, my long, auburn hair a mass of tangled knots, like seaweed washed up on the beach, my nose and my cheeks chapped by the wind, rough and red, my eyes stinging and blood-streaked.

My clothes, damp and hanging off my body like a rotting wood, oh, I must have looked a sight, no wonder the man had pity on me and asked me inside his house. It was a sort of twinge I felt then, but I ignored it.

"My name is Paul," he said as he sat down next to me with two mugs of coffee. "I was watching you through my telescope for a long time." His hand touched my cheek then, "I thought I had never seen anyone quite as beautiful before."

I looked again into those eyes, those magnificent eyes. "I....I think...."

"No," he said, placing his hand over my mouth, "I don't want to hear that, what you're going to say. I know you must think I'm mad. Perhaps you are right. I live here alone, I see very few people and only for a very short time. I'm happy that way...."

I tried to get up from the chair, suddenly afraid of not him, but of myself.

"No," he said, lightly forcing me back into the seat, "Don't get up, not yet. I won't hurt you. I only wanted to know who you were, to see you better, to touch you just a little. You can go when you are warmer." He stroked my hair, "What beautiful hair you have."

Perhaps it was the soft light in the room, or the numbness in my skin that was warming, but flashes of heat and electricity were running up my spine, light and warmth seemed to be flooding my whole body. And there was a tingling sensation in my groin.

My hand reached out and I touched his face, such a wonderful face, a face I could love to look at forever, to watch it grow older, to watch it grow stronger.

Then suddenly we were kissing. Kissing very hard and his tongue was inside of my mouth and he was tasting the wetness of my teeth and my gums. I sucked on his tongue, drawing out the salt of his saliva and the taste of his own mouth.

Our lips pressed tightly together and the movement of our faces continuous, as if we would try to eat each other up, as if we would suck each other inside with our tongues and mouths, as if the kiss would consume everything.

I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my body against his chest. So wonderful it was, it felt like coming home, like finding peace. And it was different from Harry and Carol, it was complete, it felt as if the strength of his body effec and flowed into mine.

My thighs tightened with that familiar desire, that desire for consumation, for sexual movement. That hunger, that old hunger for men, for a man's touch and a man's thrust was filling my brain.

But I didn't want to push him with my hunger, did not want him to think I was a wild woman.

The kiss broke and he whispered in my ear, "Tell my your name. Please tell me your name, pretty lady."

"Jane," I whispered back, to him, "My name is Jane."

We returned to the same embrace, this time even more powerful than before as his arms wrapped around my back and he sought my flesh under my clothes. His hands began to clutch at me as if he could learn all about Jane just through his hands, as if his hands were the main vehicle for communication and his mouth. Oh, his mouth, his mouth at my mouth and our tongues rapidly searching out every inch of warm, wet flesh there.

The hand came under my clothes and up across my breasts, he pressed my breasts with such intensity and his breathing was already coming very hard to him. He handled my nipples, it was strong, hard, but it wasn't cruel, it was merely intense and terribly beautiful. I loved the way he was touching me, I could not think of anyone ever touching me exactly like that. Touching me as if my flesh could reveal something that no other flesh would reveal, as if I were the most important body that had ever crossed his way.

"Ah," he whispered, "You must have the most beautiful breasts in the world, I must see them, I must." And he held back from me in order to unbutton my blouse and to expose my tits to his eyes. When they were all out in the open he fondled them and stared at them, as if he had never seen tits in his whole life.

His head sank down between them and he fastened his mouth over one of the nipples, he began to suck me, to suck me with "the same intensity of that kiss, as if he would suck the life from me and into himself, as if he would suck the world through my tits.

I thrilled to his sucking and I wanted more, I threw my head back and just enjoyed the wonderful lashing of his tongue all around my nipples. I held my breath and felt the mouth move up and down and the suction of his lips thrilled me between my thighs.

Oh, how I wanted his cock. I knew it would be a beautiful, hard cock. I wanted to see it, I reached my hand down between his legs and I felt the unmistakable bulge there. How hard he felt to me, how big, I rubbed him with my small hands and he parted his legs a little, as if he had wanted me to do just that.

He wanted me all right, he wanted my body, he wanted my body laid out with him entering me, him fucking me for a long time, finding delicious release in the warm center of my body.

And that's how it happened, he stood up taking me with him and he led me to another room, a smaller room with a small bed in it, he began to undress me. He pulled off the unbuttoned shirt on my back and once again stood back to gaze at my breasts. Then he went for my skirt and pulled it off me, slowly, then my underpants. He felt my thighs and my waist as he did it, exposing all of me slowly, sensually, .as if his eyes would feast forever on my nakedness.

I was silent, glowing in my body. Feeling neither young nor old, but totally alive and totally beautiful. I stood there beaming and aching for his touch.

He laid me down on the small bed and kissed the flesh of my stomach. He was still fully clothed, but now he began to get undressed, never taking his hungry eyes off of my naked body as he, too, became exposed to the atmosphere of the room.

And when he had taken off all of his clothes I marveled at him, at the most beautiful man body I had ever seen.

He came to me now, caressing and kissing my flesh as he approached me. He lifted my legs over his head and went down into my cunt.

Almost immediately I felt his tongue snaking up into my cunt hole, it whipped around in the already creaming muscles, and I flexed and contracted around the action of his mouth. He pressed his lips deep into my cunt lips and sucked at them.

He found my little love button and did delicious things to it, he snaked around it and he sucked it, and I was afire with need and compulsion toward him. I touched his hair, my fingers clutching at strands of dark hair in the agony of intense desire.

He stood up again and I looked at his body. I looked at his cock and his balls. He was hung magnificently. His dark cock was wide and large, much larger than his son's, much prettier. I wanted to taste it immediately and I moved my head towards it.

But he pushed me back against the bed.

"No," he said, "Not now, I want you too much, it would be over in a matter of seconds. Please forgive me if I want this to last as long as possible."

"Yes," I whispered. "Make it last, make it last."

And then his lips found mine again as he covered me with his body. The weight of him over me was wonderful, it was a relief in itself to feel his hard, strong body pressing into me. To feel his erect prick against my thigh, his pliant balls swinging free.

I sighed in the kiss, breathing stiffly and wantonly. My arms encircled his back and they moved up and down. I felt his ass, a very firm, nice ass, I sought out his asshole and poked my finger up there wanting somehow to get inside of him, too.

His knees separated my legs and I felt his cock positioning itself to enter me. He slipped around me and the hard thing began to find its way home. It moved up into me; it sought out the darkness of my flesh.

And when he entered me completely, I sighed with relief with a blessed fullness. He pushed farther yet, and I couldn't believe how large he was. He seemed to grow even larger once inside of my cunt. His cock throbbed in me, twitched with the contact of the warm, creamy flesh and his body sank down onto my woman's body to wait, to wait for the right moment to begin fucking me.

I closed my eyes tightly as his hips began to move and his cock began to thread in and out of me. In it sank, deeply, oh so deeply he dived with his cock and then slowly he pulled it out, almost to the tip and then quickly he would plunge back into me. His cock bouncing off of the bone in my body.

We were plunged into a mad embrace, a race against time and the elements. Somewhere outside there was another world, but it was obscured by the sound of the wind and the tide and by the intensity of our breathing.

It was obscured by the large cock that was pummeling my cunt, the cock that was smashing my guts in the most thrilling, filling way. The cock that was teaching me more than any other cock I had ever known.

Oh, here was a man! A wonderful, man, a man that was not only teaching me that I had flesh but who was giving me flesh, giving me his flesh and my flesh to hold and to keep and to feel for this moment of isolation, this moment of fucking.

And now we were lost to the inevitable movement of my cunt and his cock. Now we were prisoners of sex and that was all that we knew. Only the humping of our bodies together, the eternal fuck in a capsule.

He felt for my tit and pressed it so roughly that I cried out. Yes, it was painful the way he assaulted me, it was a desperate way that he fucked, as if it were the last fuck on earth or the first. And I responded to all of his movements to all of his plunging cock, I felt my orgasm beginning, even before his, desperately I cried out and raised my body frantically to take more and more of his stiff cock.

And he fucked faster now, taking me for all I was, crushing me under his weight and under his cock and grabbing at my flesh until I felt like we were both going to disintegrate.

"Arrhh...." I cried. "I.... Oh, fuck me harder, fuck me harder, fuck me with all you have, let me feel it harder and harder, don't ever stop, kill me with your prick, tear me apart, treat me like shit."

And he went mad, his cock seemed to enlarge even more as it beat the shit out of my cunt, ravishing me with its fury and its need. The taste of his mouth was salty and his teeth bit my lip until blood streamed down off of my cheek.

My fingernails dug into his back in the height of my orgasm and his and I knew that I was drawing blood. What did it matter. There was only this divine moment and then we would die and there would be no other problems, no other unkind acts, no more jealousy.

My body arched as spasms of lust shot through me, I climbed to a height that I couldn't remember having ever felt. But the strange thing about that orgasm, was that it did not ebb, it continued in a chain reaction that threatened to cancel out the world forever.

And the hot come of his body burst inside of me and I felt that creamy substance flooding me, threatening to drown my flesh with its quantity.

He clutched at me, riding his orgasms as if he were riding the surf, plunging in and out of me until I thought that I would surely lose my mind. There was no more vision, there was nothing else in my mind except the fire of fucking of two bodies" pressed and released wildly, entirely.

And we went on and on until we both lay collapsed in a pool of sweat and come on the small bed. We did not talk for an hour, we merely breathed and touched our own bodies, trying to see of they were really bodies that belonged to ourselves or if they were only shades.

His hand came over to me and rested on my pubic mound, his finger played with my clitoris and he touched it now as if it were some thing of infinite worth and import.

He touched my breasts, gently now, lightly running his fingers over the mounds of my tits and holding the nipples between his fingers. My body shuddered with delight and with satisfaction and also with a growing, new fire in my groin.

I reached over and fondled his cock. It was soft now, well, half erect. In a flash I was between his legs and I was licking my cunt juice off of his member, my cunt juice and his sperm and the sweat of our two bodies.

It tasted like heaven, I could have stayed there all day slurping that sticky cock. I got his balls into my mouth, and that was really something, considering the size of them. I swished them and cleaned them with my wet lips.

I got my lips around his cock and sank down onto it, I sucked it good, really wanting to suck him, really wanting to milk the milk of the male animal right out of that prick. I had never met a prick that I liked as much as this one, never met one that could thrill me as much as this one had thrilled me.

It wasn't long before it had come fully to life and again he was spreading my legs and mounting me, this time in doggy fashion with me on my knees and hands and he like a wolf fucking the living shit out of me. After he had fucked my cunt for a while, he fucked me up the ass, and with a cock the size of Paul's that was some feeling. I thought for sure I would never sit down again, not with that hard, intense cock showering my asshole with hot come and hard meat.

His hands played with my cunt as his cock fucked me up the ass. He stuck about four fingers of one hand up inside me and worked up a lather of my cunt sauce. With the other hand he rubbed my clitoris and my stomach, and it was all very fleshy and very wild as his cock continued to plunge into my shit hole.

We came together after a fashion and then lay again together in each other's arms, kissing and hugging and waiting for the wind to stop howling. After another hour we again embraced, this time we were standing up and then we were on the floor where I sat on his cock and raised myself up and down until we both came in a shower of fuck sauce and sparks.

After that time we went into the kitchen and we had something to eat, but it was not long before he had grabbed me again and turned me upside down, possessing me again as I had never been fucked.

He fucked my mouth and he fucked me between my tits, he even fucked me under the armpits, and of course he fucked my cunt over and over again until I ached with so much passion and so much fucking.

Yes, I ached all over in every possible orifice of my body I ached and Paul's cock looked red and sensitive. But that wasn't going to stop us, oh, no. We continued until about six o'clock the next morning when we both collapsed into unconsciousness.

We were mad people. It was almost as if we were trying to obliterate all the pain in the world and all the possible pain in all relationships by the intensity of our passion. We were people who had never known each other. We were man and woman and we were the striving to unify two bodies, to make the unity the end of time and flesh.

What else could there be but cock and a cunt, two chests sweating and rubbing together until they rubbed each other away. Fucking going on until the sexual organs were numb from the continuous abuse and passion.

Breathing like the harsh wind until sleep captured us and tied us together for a while in oblivion. Oblivion. Sexual oblivion, then sleep.

After a while I awoke to the screaming of the gulls, the bright light of the afternoon filtering through the curtains, the light of the dark blue sea around the lighthouse. I looked at the man sleeping next to me.

A beautiful man, a man who had given me an intensity that I hadn't believed possible in this world of unkindness. My body ached for him again, to be filled with his body, tied to him through his cock and my cunt.

If only, I thought, if only, it could be forever like that.

If only we need never speak to each other save to say, "Fuck me harder," or "Suck me, please suck me." If only life could be an endless chain of stimulus, satisfaction and sleep, than never would I have to face the burden of all the things that had happened before, never would I have to worry about....

Never would I have to worry about the fact that Paul was Harry's father.