Canon Ch. 08byinvictus17©
Geoff did indeed give her ten years, as he promised.
Amy threw an eightieth birthday party for him at their favorite restaurant, and all their friends attended to honor the old soldier - and to eat the best steaks in town.
Amy's parents, of course, were among the guests; but one of the survivors of those two terrible days on the hilltop had passed on, though his wife was there. Another attended in a wheelchair. Johnsty, too, was gone, and so was Carolyn, his wife. The annual gathering was shrinking.
After the dinner, Amy and Geoff returned to the gleaming Jaguar, which was lovingly maintained by Amy under her husband's supervision. He walked with an Irish blackthorn stick now, though he still stood as straight as a newly-minted lieutenant.
He got in the left-hand seat, and allowed Amy to drive. They never discussed it, but after a near-collision caused by Geoff's reflexes not being what they once were, he never drove again. As with every aspect of his life, he maintained control; he gave up driving before that right was denied him.
He smiled as Amy stirred the gears like the expert driver she had become under his tutelage. "Come on, Punkin," said the old man with a grin. "Open her up a little. Cat needs to scream."
Amy glanced at him with a smirk, then downshifted and stamped the accelerator. Geoff sighed with pleasure at feeling the beast leap forward, and grinned with fierce delight as Amy whipped it through a tricky S-curve that had long been their favorite on the way back to their house.
"Well done, Little Heart," he said as they pulled into the garage. "Well done."
"You taught me well, Geoffie," she said, then moved to the other side of the car to help the old man climb out.
They did not speak as she helped lift him from the seat and slide over the wide doorsill. He accepted her help, but would not acknowledge it. She understood, and conspired with him to pretend he didn't really need it.
Amy helped him undress - his adult diapers, again, something they never openly acknowledged - and then went to the steam room to relax.
As they walked naked down the hall, Amy looked at Geoff's aged body with love and warm compassion. He no longer had the deceptively muscular and young-looking body of even a few years ago; he had grown thinner, unsteadier, and though he still could not be described as "frail," he was not as strong as he had once been.
Yes, his skin sagged, he was wrinkled and lined, his body soft and aged; but he's still my Geoffie, she thought. No one could love me like he does, and there's no one I could love like I love him. It's not his body I love. It's his heart.
They no longer fucked; but they could still make love. In the steam room, Amy squatted over him and whimpered as he felt her pussy. His fingers were still magic, and he stroked her swollen clit and explored her slippery hole as she gasped and humped and shivered over him - and he enjoyed the show as much as he ever had.
At the very beginning, it was more thrilling for him to please her than to please himself - and that was still true. The old man could no longer cum himself, but he adored giving that pleasure to her.
She sat in his lap afterward as she always had, and they held each other close in the warm, wet fog, stroking each other's slick, sweaty bodies and kissing intimately. Passion? Oh, yes - but for him, banked and warm, not blazing. That time was past.
Love, soul-deep and as solid as the Earth, remained. Where once they expressed their devotion to each other with fierce sexual abandon, Amy now expressed hers by caring for him - and he expressed his own by allowing it. For Geoff, that was difficult, and truly an expression of trust and adoration.
They moved to their shower. She bathed him, tenderly, and he bathed her; sensuality remained, as well. He loved to touch her smooth body, stroking and laving her nudity with his soapy, shaking old hands - and she loved being touched, and giving him whatever pleasure she could. She soaped him with her soft hands, lovingly, and he relaxed and lost himself in the wonder of her gentle touch.
And then to bed. Geoff wore his protective garment, but Amy went naked for him; and they both loved that. It was sweet warmth and intimacy still.
Only one thing remained to them unchanged, only one thing that was as it had always been. It was the first thing they had shared, and that which had brought them together; their beloved Pachelbel, the Canon in D.
Geoff's voice was still deep and strong, and Amy would lie naked in his arms and listen as he hummed to her, the eight repeated notes of the bass violins resonating in his chest, in her ear, and in her heart. As always, it calmed and comforted them and brought them a sense of peace and oneness like nothing else. Everything was all right in that little island in time, as it always had been; and they slept peacefully together, smiling softly in each other's arms.
In the morning they would wake, and be grateful for another day together.
They went to Juicy Island still, through not as frequently; and never for more than a week at a time. Geoff was fortunate in that he required no special equipment - no oxygen or monitors or other such things - but Amy was not comfortable having him out of reach of medical attention for very long, even though Geoff himself seemed to be more relaxed and at ease there than at home.
The grammar of their relationship had changed in many ways. She kept their checkbook and paid their bills, kept track of his doctor's appointments and drove him to and from them. Where once he had taught and cared for her, now she cared for him - and she knew that when he grumpily allowed it, when he cooperated as she helped him on the toilet and bathed and changed him when he had an accident, that it was, for that hard, proud man, an expression of love and trust beyond any other.
If they had both been young, and Geoff had required such care because he had been ill or injured, no one would have thought it strange. They would have found it admirable, touching.
Both Geoff and Amy felt just that way; old age was not a part of what Geoff was. It was the enemy, like disease or an injury, and they fought it together, every day and night. Where once he had been the strong one, the protector, their roles had shifted now.
On one occasion, when they were leaving their local Wal-Mart, they were confronted by a young mugger in the parking lot - and it became clear just how much had changed.
He was a skinny young junkie, visibly shaking with his need for drugs. He waved a cheap knife and grated, "Gimme your purse and the old fart's wallet and I won't hurt you. Come on, hurry up!"
Geoff glared at him, his eyes flashing - but he did not move. Amy just smiled at the young thug. "And what if I don't?"
As Geoff turned to stare at Amy, the kid gaped at her - then snarled and lunged at her with the knife.
And in less than the space of a single heartbeat, he was lying on the pavement and whimpering, cradling a broken wrist. His knife lay on the asphalt 30 feet away, and Amy was dialing 911 on her cell phone and looking down at him impassively.
The kid looked up at her. "Don't get up," she said matter-of-factly. "If you move, I'll kill you."
He nodded, holding his arm, and shut his eyes. The trio waited for the police to arrive with no further incident.
Afterward, Geoff felt badly about it - at first.
"I should have been the one to take that little son of a bitch out, Punkin," he growled angrily as they drove home.
"You were, Geoffie," she said. He looked at her - still angry, but puzzled.
Amy smiled at him. "Who was it that taught me how to do that?" she asked. "Who insisted that I learn it?"
He looked ahead thoughtfully, at the road unwinding before them in the darkness. "You were protecting me then, ten years ago, Geoff," she went on. "Today it paid off. I wasn't afraid at all. But you were the one who made it happen."
"Mmm," the old man said. "I didn't think of that." He nodded, then smiled. "Thanks, Punkin. I feel better now."
Then he grinned savagely. "I'd feel even better if I could have felt that punk's bone snap and not just heard it."
She grinned back. "That did feel pretty good, Geoffie. Thanks for teaching me how to do it."
She wasn't shifting gears, so she took his old hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back...
And her nurse's training immediately had her senses on alert. His grip was far weaker than it should have been.
She looked at him, noted the sagging look of the right side of his face - and she turned the car around and drove straight to the hospital, speed limits be damned.
"He seems to be fine now," said the young physician. "It was probably what we call a TIA - a Transient Ischemic Accident."
"A mini-stroke," she said, nodding. They were in the waiting area near the emergency room.
"That's right. Probably the stress of the mugging that provoked it. Like I say, he seems to be fine now, but I'd like to keep him overnight, just in case."
"Of course. But I'll be staying with him."
The doctor smiled. "You seem very close to your grandfather."
Amy smiled sweetly. "You might say we're close, yes. He's my husband."
A nurse emerged, pushing a scowling Geoff, wearing a hospital gown, in a wheelchair. The doctor blinked at the young woman, at the old man, and then stammered, "Yes, well, uh, well, we'll be putting him in -" He looked down at his clipboard. "-Room 417."
She nodded and went to Geoff, who frowned at her. "Just for one night, Big Heart. We'll go home in the morning. Okay?"
He snorted. "Do I have a choice?" he growled as the nurse began rolling him toward the elevator.
"Nope. And I'm staying with you."
"Now that's just stupid," he grumped. "I'm all right. Go home and sleep in a bed. Come get me in the morning."
She patted his hand as the elevator door closed. "Not a chance, Marine." She bent down and kissed his head. "I'm not going anywhere." He tried to frown.
During the night, the charge nurse came in to find Amy curled up beside the old man on the bed, snuggled under his arm in her jeans and T-shirt. She started to wake her - then smiled and let them be.
Amy and Geoff left with a prescription and a warning that he should take it easy for a few days.
Geoff had other plans. When they got home, he said, "We're going to Juicy, Punkin. Set it up." They were standing in the kitchen.
"But, Geoffie -"
"No buts, Amy. Do it. We leave - " He thought. "Day after tomorrow."
She looked at him, then nodded.
His eyes had grown cloudy, in the last year or so; but now they were as hard and clear as ice.
She understood. He would not spend another night in a hospital bed. He would go on his own terms, in his favorite place, and with her at his side.
The next morning, over breakfast, Amy sat down beside him with a serious expression. It was a little out of place; it was a Saturday, and she was naked.
"Geoffie, let's talk about it. It's time."
He took a sip of his coffee and looked at her. He smiled at her bare breasts, then nodded.
"All right. I think we both know what's happening, Punkin, but if it'll make you feel better, we'll talk."
Geoff already had a Living Will, had given Amy a medical power of attorney years before, and they had long since established his wishes regarding end-of-life issues and afterward.
He had insisted on a DNR - a Do Not Resuscitate order; he was not willing to linger. "I'm going out quick or I'm not going," was his half-serious, half-joking expression.
But this was different. "Geoff - why are we going to the island?"
He looked at his coffee, and then at her face. "Amy, it won't be long. I feel it coming. I feel - unsteady. About half here, like I have one foot on the other side already."
She looked at him warily. "You've been having symptoms? You need to tell me -"
He shook his head as he interrupted her. "Nothing like that, Punkin," he murmured. "It's just a feeling. C'mere." He held out his arms, and the nude young woman rose and carefully sat in his lap.
He stroked her smooth back, and she leaned her head on his. "How long are we going to stay, Geoffie?" she asked, knowing the answer.
"As long as it takes," he said quietly. "We're going to our island, Amy. And I won't be coming back."
He smiled at her sad expression. "It's all right, Punkin. You know how it is for us there - every day is forever. I hope it'll be for months. It won't be years..."
Then he grinned. "But I figure I have a better shot at going to Heaven if I'm already there when I die."
She hugged him, and he held her; and for a moment, it was as if no time had passed. He was still strong, still in control.
He cupped the back of her head and kissed her, gently. "Come with me, Amy. Go naked in Paradise for me again, for as long as it lasts. For as long as we have. Come with me."
"I will," she whispered.
He kissed her again. Then, "Set up weekly shipments of supplies for us," he said. "And pack some clothes this time. You'll need them when the plane comes in - and when you bring me back." She nodded, her eyes sad.
He smiled. "Between deliveries, I want you naked, though. Just like now."
She smiled back at him then, and a little of the old twinkle came back into her strange eyes. "Naked and barefoot," she whispered. He nodded, and hugged her again. They clung to each other for a while, then Amy whispered, "I need to make some calls and get packed."
He nodded, and looked up at her as she stood. "What are you packing?" he asked, curious.
"All your favorite dancing costumes, my baby oil, my dildos... You know. The essentials." She grinned. "You want Heaven, Geoffie?" she asked. "I'll take you there."
He was still holding her hand, and he kissed her small white fingers. "You always have, Little Heart," he said. "I've lived there for ten years now."
Her eyes filled, and she impulsively hugged him yet again. "Now, none of that," he murmured into her breast.
"No, Geoffie. None of that." She stroked his spotted old head. "I'm just proud of you, that's all."
He hugged her back, his lined old cheek pressed against her soft young breasts. There was nothing to say.
She kissed his head and went to the phone.
"Jimmy? This is Amy Rider. Yeah.... Day after tomorrow. I dunno, I haven't got the tickets yet. I'll call you back with the flight information. And there's more...." ---
They stood on the dock and watched the plane fly off to the east, back to Tahiti. When it was all but out of sight, Amy knelt and opened one of her suitcases, then began to undress.
As Geoff watched, smiling, she stripped till she was absolutely naked; then she folded her clothes neatly and tucked them into the bag.
As always, Geoff admired the sweet grace of her every movement, the lovely lines of her bare body. Even the curve of her pretty bare toes as she knelt was beautiful...
She was unfolding a large white trash bag. "What are you doing?" he asked, puzzled.
As he watched, she closed the suitcase and placed it in the trash bag. She tied a twisty around the neck to close it, then looked up.
"For as long as we're here, my clothes are going to stay out here on the dock, Geoffie. I'm not going to set foot on the island wearing anything. Anything at all." She smiled up at him and shivered. "It's not quite as hot as having you burn all my clothes - but it's close." He smiled at her. "Thank you, Punkin. I love it. And I love you." He pointed with his stick. "What's the trash bag for?"
"In case it rains, silly." She stood and embraced him. "When we hear the plane coming, I should have time to hurry out here and get dressed."
"That'll be fun to watch," the old man said with a grin. She slapped his chest lightly. "Dirty old man," she said.
"Naughty naked girl."
She felt the peace and relaxation in him as they kissed. He's right, she thought. This is where we need to be.
That afternoon, a miracle occurred.
Geoff was relaxing with a beer in front of their little hut and watching with pleasure as his naked slave girl belly-danced for him on the sand. He smiled and gazed at Amy contentedly as she writhed and wiggled for him with all the skill she had, all of her pale flesh quivering and jiggling as she gave him her body in one of the only ways he could still enjoy her.
Or so they thought.
As Amy squatted and pumped her bald, wet pussy at him lewdly, shaking her breasts and blowing him kisses, her amazing eyes suddenly went wide.
He looked down, and was as surprised as she. The old warrior had a hard-on, for the first time in more than a year.
She hurried to him eagerly and knelt to touch him and take him in her mouth. The naked young woman shivered and sighed to feel her tongue and lips on his erect cock again. "It's been so long," she murmured as she licked his dick, her eyes closed in ecstasy. She wrapped her mouth around his dickhead gratefully and savored the taste of his pre-cum; she licked and sucked him, ever so lovingly, ever so happily, able once again to hold the center of her whole world in her mouth.
For his part, Geoff relaxed and enjoyed it, thrilled, grateful, but expecting nothing - and when his darling Amy squatted over him and guided his stiff old dick into her wet, warm, and heartbreakingly familiar pussy, he breathed a little prayer of thanks.
She heard him, and whispered, "Amen, Lord. Thank you..."
She began to slide her trembling pussy up and down on his quivering cock. In seconds, they were moving together as if they had last fucked that morning, and they were lost in the precious sensation that they both loved so much - and in the souls' touch they found there. They embraced and kissed and fucked, gently, gratefully, warmly.
It did not last long; but it was one of the best they ever shared. They couldn't know how long it would last, so there was no holding back. Amy came on him three times, squealing like a virgin and clinging to him adoringly, before he shuddered and came in her himself.
The old man held her close and spurted deep inside her, tears leaking from his eyes. He wept with pleasure he never thought to know again, with the poignant knowledge that it might be the last, and with gratitude that that moment had come again at all.
When he looked at his love's face, he saw that her eyes were wet, too - and, he knew, for the same reasons.
They held each other for a long time afterwards. They kept their connection for as long as they could, and as he softened inside her with merciful slowness, they lost themselves in deep kisses as if their love had just begun.
His dick finally slipped from her wet opening, and she kissed him, smirked, and rose into a feral crouch. The sun had not yet set, and once more again, she reveled in showing him his cum as it drooled and hung from her wet, red hole - and once more again, he gasped at her lewdness and her love.
"My nasty naked girl," he breathed.
"My dirty old man," she whispered back - and squeezed out some more.
Perhaps it was the clean sea air; perhaps it was the deep sense of peace and contentment he felt at being in control once more, choosing where he was, where he would go, and how it would end; perhaps it truly was a miracle - but it happened again and again.
They did not seek it or work for it. But sometimes, when they cuddled, or when Amy danced or masturbated for his pleasure, or when they were just talking - the old soldier's old soldier came to attention and reported for duty.
They accepted the gift as what it was, and - another miracle - they never failed to cum, usually together. Geoff was always the passive partner as Amy crouched or knelt or squatted or lay over him, but that was all right. They even explored some new variations; Amy squatting on him facing his feet, treating him to the sweet and lovely - and hot and nasty - view of her pretty bare ass pumping up and down on his cock as she fondled his old balls with her soft hand.