A Drowning: The Sequel

The girl saw the shed's door open allowing the rain to enter in sheets, only adding to what already poured through the rusted metal roof. She heard the fat man returning, but she had a plan. It wasn't a plan of escape, she had accepted her fate much earlier. If she could draw him close enough, she would use her teeth to tear into his flesh, leaving a wound he would carry forever; a scar to show she had fought, not given in. She understood the results of this action; he would kill her for sure but maybe in his rage, he would stop her life quickly. Calmly, she watched the form approach from the shadows. She simply waited.

The fishermen had pulled him from the damaged boat, gambling with their lives, and asking nothing in return. It was what was expected of men and they never measured the risk. Gathered around him, all speaking at once, they had anxiously told him about the girl, concealing only the shame for their part in the affair. Seeing her now, he felt an enormous sadness. His heart went cold. He was not sure if she was alive, her hair hanging loose about her face and her chest still. Then her eyes opened the slightest, watching him, as he started to lift her and untie the rope. She winced as his arms closed about her waist.

"I'll have you out of here soon, love," He whispered, "and someplace warm where I can take care of you."

"You left me," she murmured.

He swallowed hard, holding the nauseating guilt in his gut, but continued freeing her hands. There was no justification to be made, no absolution expected from the broken girl. Released, she stumbled to the center of the room and raised her face to a trickle of water, allowing the storm to clean the filth from her body.

"We've got to go," I urged, as she carefully washed the blood away, showing an unnatural calmness, a contrast to my frantic motions.

"We will, but I still have business here," She said. Selecting a worn and discarded overall from a stack of clothes, she covered herself. I followed her through the door, out into the downpour, my senses heightened, looking in every direction for danger that might threaten as I realized she was headed directly to his office.

I pulled her to a stop, grabbing her shoulder and said, "We don't have time for this."

She slid from under my grasp, continuing forward as she answered, "There's no other time but now. You taught me that, remember?"

The fat man startled as she enter the small room, then relaxed and laughed, "You've come visiting me, and on such a stormy night. Couldn't you wait or did the thought of my cock in your little ass excite you too much. You know, it's too bad. If you had been my woman, I would have dressed you in silks, not the oily rags you wear now but it was your choice," he continued, taunting her, stopping only as I entered the room. "Ah, it's my gringo friend, the thief, the hombre who refuses my generosity," He said, placing his beefy hands on the desk's edge, glancing through the window, and only slightly concerned about further intrusions.

"Yeah, I've been really hot for you," she grinned as she pulled the sharp steel hook from under her overalls, brought it down with all her weight, the point penetrating muscle and bone, and pinning the hand to the wooden desk. The fat man screamed as his blood flowed across the ledgers. He grabbed the shaft of the hook, struggling to release his hand, only intensifying the pain. The thick barb had passed through both his hand and the wood.

The girl, now strangely detached from the suffering she had caused, looked around the room. Her eyes temporarily rested on the old file boxes sitting in a corner of the small office, then continued to hunt for something else.

Seeing her attention focused elsewhere, the fat man, his face drained from the fear and pain, cried, "You bitch, what are you going to do?"

"As soon as I can find a dull knife, I'm going to cut your balls off," she answered, not with a rage in her voice but a coldness that forced me, involuntarily, to place a hand over my crotch.

Her search ended as she saw the can of lantern kerosene stored on the shelf. She raised the can, shaking it to assure herself it was full, then looked back at me and said, "I've brought you into something else that's not your business. You should leave." She walked toward the fat man, unscrewing the cap from the can, watching the man's eyes broaden as she raised the container and prepared to pour the volatile fluid over his head. His mouth opened and he screamed for mercy as she looked down at him. He begged her to not kill him, pleading, tears running down his face. Lowering the still full container, she hesitated, then turned, walked to the corner, and began covering the file cases with the liquid.

Only partially emptying the can, she returned to the desk and set the container down, then asked, "You smoke fat man?"

The fat man, shaking uncontrollably, could only stare, back and forth, first at her and then at the can, as she turned to me and said, "Since you're still here, find me a match."

I had not moved; frozen to a tiny spot, watching this horror unfold from a woman I might love. I barely understood her question, and was startled to be included in the terror. I blurted out, "I don't smoke," as I patted my drenched shirt pockets to prove my sincerity

"Well fuck," She said, "Nobody smokes. You want to live forever?" Frustrated, she leaned down, opened a drawer in the desk, and smiled as she brought out a lighter. Upon seeing the lighter in her hand, the fat man's crying intensified. Curious, she brought her face close to his, carefully examining the dirty folds of fat, and asked, "Still want to shove your little wienie up my ass?" With that, she clicked the case open, spun the wheel with her finger, and watched the spark ignite the wick. Assured that the flame burned strongly, she tossed the lighter into the corner.

"We can go now," She told me, walking toward the door as the file cases ignited.

Speechless, I followed her out of the office, down the pier, glancing back only to see the fat man at the door of the burning building. He was carrying the large desk, still attached to his hand and struggling to push the desk and himself through the frame. Flames outlined his form.

As we hurried in our escape, I yelled through the rain, "Thank God, I thought you were going to neuter him."

"I did," She said, "I burned his contracts and all his loan records. He doesn't own anyone now."

We sailed across the shoal that night in a battered boat, making good time in the disturbed seas. She had been quiet for the last hundred miles, refusing my nursing, and keeping her thoughts private. I longed to be included but knew it was best not to interfere.

"It's your watch, love, but don't hurry. I've turned the autohelm on," I said, climbing down into the galley where she sat, absorbed in stirring the last dregs of the thick coffee.

"I'm ready," She answered.

In the narrow passageway, we turned sideways to squeeze by each other, pressing our backs tight to the lockers to make room. For one moment, our bodies crushed together in the tight confines.

With a tense smile, she said, "I'm sorry."

With my mouth inches from her lips, I answered, "I'm not. If this is the only way you'll let me get close to you, then I'll have to be satisfied with these chance meetings."

With an unexpected quickness, her mouth covered mine, and pushed my head against the lockers, the brunt force of her hunger startling me. Her hands tore at my sweater and her fingers clawed to reach the flesh. Unable to rip through the knit seams, she lifted the material from my chest, forcing her mouth on to my nipples, biting and sucking with such force, that I had to pull her head back. Her mouth, now constrained by my grip, cried in frustration as she attacked her insatiable appetite with only her hands. They drove through my waistband, pressed hard around my cock, and cupped the engorged member, fingers tightening on the hardness. Unwilling to release her to suffer further attacks to my chest, I threw her to the bunk where she lay, gasping, glaring up at me.

"Fuck me," She hissed her mouth dry from the exertion.

I watched her prone figure as she tore garments from her body, ignoring buttons, zippers, rejecting anything that would slow her release. Then, unfettered from any barriers, she spread her legs as wide as the confines of the bunk would allow and began slowly rubbing her slit, still staring up, watching my face. I stood and removed my clothes as her fingers moved faster, lubricated from her wetness, now dampening the sheet. I knelt between her thighs, cupped her breasts, and kneaded the erect nipples. She forced my hands away and placed them on the large brass rod attached under the low ceiling, positioning them until I understood-I gripped the metal and supported myself, set to drive hard into her.

Free from my weight, she scrunched down until the tip of my cock rested on her crevasse's entrance. I tightened the muscles in my back, ready to thrust deep into her when she stopped my advance by placing her hands firmly on my hips. Controlling my lust with her arms, she slowly slid further, her clit just touching my gland, and finally deeper until her wetness barely engulfed the head of my shaft. Our hips trembled from the restraint, the vibrations carried to my cock as a low sound issued from the back of her throat. Looking down into her face, I saw the redness spreading from her cheeks, to the hollow of her neck, and down to her breasts. Her eyelids darkened an angry blue; she drew in small broken gasps of air across her dry lips, which now were tight against her teeth. She released my hips and brought her hands up to my wrists, curling her fingers tight, her fingernails digging deep into my flesh, and gasped only a single word, "Now!"

The word triggered some animal instinct older than time. Denied no longer, I lunged into her, forcing the swollen head deeper and deeper. Every muscle in my body, from my shoulders to my legs, exploded with energy, releasing their tension. My hips pounded, again and again into the girl as her long legs flailed across the bunk from the impacts. She tried to bring her legs up and around my waist to pull me tighter but it was useless-she had lost control of both tendons and sinew under the repeated concussions.

She was also losing something else, something vital to her. Her mind's connections, misfiring from the assault, screamed the obscenities of her passion. Yet, no sound left her mouth; it was impossible for her tongue to form the words. For once, she was mute, but still, her mind shrieked the filth. Through a dark veil, she could see the words forming, could even see their spelling, yet they remained bottled within her. If the words couldn't get through her mouth, they would have to escape elsewhere. They flowed rapidly through her body, seeking an exit. They rushed to her toes, causing them to curl, then along her spine, which quickly arched, and finally deep within her, they found an escape as she contracted, and her cum flowed freely.

I saw her wetness before I felt it. No longer able to bear the weight, my head had dropped between my shoulders, down over her chest, the sweat from my face was dripping onto her breasts. I watched as my shaft plunged time after time, the image increasing the excitement with each thrust. I withdrew my cock to the outmost boundary of her lips, preparing again for the hundredth assault deep into her, when the moisture suddenly flowed acrossed my shaft, losing itself in the darkness beneath.

It was only then, as the veins on my neck swelled from the strain, and the muscles beneath hardened into iron that the small fist first formed in my groin. I stopped, deferring the next lunge, but the fist remained, only now more insistent, more demanding; it grew, swelling out, expanding until I knew there was no way to delay it's ultimatum. I threw my head back, and groaned as the semen, forced relentlessly, rushed through the shaft, exploding into her. The delicious contractions milked me, again and again, but as the last drops followed their course, I plunged deep into her, filling her totally.

Early that morning, fighting to bring in a loose sail, my foot slipped on the wet deck and I started to plunge into the water. She quickly grabbed my arm as I hung over the railing, then just as quickly released her hold. As my head broke the gray surface, I gratefully watched her throw the emergency life raft over the stern. I swam to the raft, climbed into the bottom and rested, regaining my strength. Raising my head above the rubber sides, I waited patiently for the catamaran to return, only to watch the boat become smaller, until it disappeared below the horizon.