Altered Ch. 01

She began to groan and grind her mound against my pelvis. She moved her lips to my neck and began kissing and sucking it. The more I pinched and pulled her nipples the stronger her suctions on my neck became; when I would ease back she would ease back her suction and twirl her tongue on my skin. On anyone else she would have left a hickey, but my skin remained unblemished.

I unbuttoned her top slowly, savoring the passion she had and the look of lust in her eyes. I pulled the shirt to the sides and up. I used a Judo gi grip to tangle up her arms in her shirt by pulling it up over her head knotting it up in one of my hands with a firm hold.

She struggled for a second, but after looking into my eyes lost her worry and submitted her breast to me.

I brought my lips to her right nipple forming a vacuum. I wet her nipples with copious amounts of saliva; then sucking a couple inches of her hardened nipples further into my mouth I began flicking it with my tongue. Every couple of minutes I switched from one breast to the other with my right hand holding her arms pinned over her head and my left pinching her left breast when my mouth was working on her right breast.

She was groaning and moaning and spouting a lot of gibberish I couldn't understand. Her pelvis was continuously grinding my cock, it felt like she was jerking me off, the rubbing was so intense. Even without skin contact I felt like I was going to blow.

"Baby, can I go down on you?" I asked with a grunt, hoping and praying she would say yes.

"Please don't stop, I'm gonna cum."

I scratched that idea and quickly went back to work on her breasts with more vigor. I got rougher and started pumping my pelvis with hers. I held back my orgasm despite the crescendo already in view. I heard her gasping for breath "Oh my God," "Yes, yes, yes," "Ohhhh," until her body tensed up and her legs squeezed my hips tightly as all of the air seemed to be expelled in a garbled "Ahhhhh". Finally, I let my orgasm go, at the same time releasing her shirt, freeing her hands, to which she quickly used to grab my back and scratch me so hard they drew blood.

"Fuuuuck!" she exclaimed, "Wow, that was the best orgasm ever... and you only played with my breasts. I've never orgasmed over breast play before."

She pulled her hands away and looked at her fingers and noticed blood and bits of skin under her nails.

"Oh shit! Did I hurt you?" she worried. "Let me take a look."

"No, no, I'll be fine..." I asserted. "I should get going before I take things too far, you are making me crazy."

"Let me put something on your back first."

"That's ok I can do it myself."

"What's wrong Nate? Why won't you let me take a look at your back?"

I paused for a minute, not sure if I trusted her, but I definitely didn't want to leave her confused. I just couldn't think of a clever response. I guess subconsciously I must have wanted her to see, so I took my shirt off and she released her legs' grip around me, sat up and had me turn my back to her.

"Where did I scratch you? I can't find a mark anywhere."

I reached around and pointed to where I remember the pain emanating, "Right there."

"If you look close you will see the skin is still pink and there should be missing hair in spots."

"But there are no wounds or missing skin."

"I know - I heal fast."

"No one heals that fast."

"I do!" I blurted, grabbing my things and exiting her tent.

"Nate, what's going on?"

"Can we talk about this in the morning Izzy, I'm not going anywhere but I need time to think."

"OK..." she sobbed.

*****

The moon was half out and the party was still pretty much alive but I could hear a lot of moans and groans coming out of a few tents that I passed by. Anya, Tanya and Gina were on the other side of the bonfire that I needed to pass to get to my tent, and when they spotted me they approached me with interest in their eyes. I suddenly became self-aware that I had a big wet spot on my shorts and I reeked of sex, it looked like I pissed myself, luckily, they were dark shorts so I tried hiding the spot by remaining in the shadows.

"Hey Nate!" they seemed to cry in unison.

"You alone?" Anya queried.

"You looked like you were hanging out with that Isa what's her face chick," Tanya disapprovingly stated.

"Why don't you hang out with us?" Gina pouted.

"I wish I could girls. I don't mean to be a party-pooper but I got an early start in the morning and need to hit the hay."

"OK Nate, maybe tomorrow?" they asked lustily, and I swear they were ready for a four-way. What the fuck was going on, these were not the same girls I met earlier?

I took off toward the water and took a quick dip into the ocean. The water was warmer than the air and it felt good to soak in the water for a bit. I agitated my shorts a bit to get most of the cum out of them as it was a pain to wash clothes out here and I didn't bring more than a week's worth with me.

After my soaking, I went to my tent, took my shorts off and draped them over one of my tent's poles, pulled myself into my sleeping bag and tried my hand at meditating. One of the worst side-effects of my alterations was my lack of sleep. I miss sleeping, mainly because I rarely dream when I sleep now and when I do, they weren't more than a few minutes long.

For whatever reason, I didn't have trouble falling asleep that night and was out quickly, however, I woke around 1 am and was bored to tears. All around me I could hear couples having sex; if I didn't know they were in their tents I'd swear there was an orgy going on. I tried reading a book on my Kindle but I was too distraught by what Isabella might say in the morning and distracted by thoughts of our encounter together. The more I thought about her the harder I got and quickly found myself masturbating, "And you know it's time to go through the sleet and driving snow..." I started my mantra.

"Nate? Are you awake?" Isabella whispered, interrupting my vigil.

"Izzy? What is it? Is everything alright?"

"Can I come in?"

I quickly unzipped my tent and said, "Please," making an ushering gesture.

Isabella ducked in the tent looking upset; her eyes were swollen and bloodshot like she'd been crying.

"I can't sleep. I barely know you and yet I feel like I've known you my whole life. I don't understand what happened, I wanted you so bad and you ran off. I get you have to think but can I at least sleep next to you tonight? I feel like if I'm next to you I can relax and not be up all-night thinking about what's happened and worrying about what you'll say," she placated.

"I only have one sleeping bag; did you want to share it? I could open it up and use it like a comforter and we could sleep on the tent floor... the floor is on top of the sand so it should be comfortable enough" I mused.

"As nice as sharing your bag sounds, I don't think it would be very comfortable for more than an hour, I tend to toss in my sleep."

I unzipped my bag all the way, luckily, I brought 2 pillows so we fashioned a makeshift bed using a couple of beach towels as sheets to insulate us when the sand got cool then got under the 'covers'. Isabella snuggled up to my side and draped an arm on my side in a classic spoon. Surprisingly she did not ask a bunch or questions or try to talk, instead she seemed to be content to just lay with me and was fast asleep in 20 minutes. I did not want to disturb her so I tried meditating for a couple of hours. It was hard to do with her lying next to me, I was horny as hell and here was my dream woman, it was utter torture.

*****

Around 5am I felt like it was ok to get up so I painstakingly broke off contact with Isabella, got out from under the bag and tucked her in before I snuck out. The sun wasn't quite up yet but I could see dawn's early light. There were seagulls not far away making their incessant cooing, and I could see some of the vendors in the parking lot preparing their wares for the tourists waking up. My shorts were still damp but my clean clothes were still locked up in the Jeep so I put them on and headed for the vendors.

As I approached I was in luck, there were vendors readying fresh Pan Dulce (Mexican sweet bread) and also some tamale vendors had large steaming pots ready with fresh tamales. As I approached the vendors I was practically swarmed by their eagerness.

"¿Cuanto es para comprar todo eso [how much is it to buy all of that]?" I inquired of the bread vendor pointing to the plywood box case full of sweet bread (it looked to be about 50 rolls in all).

After a bit of haggling he agreed to part with them for 30 dollars, I gave him 40 and asked him to set them on one of the pull-out tables next to the fire pit. He set them up and wrapped each roll up in a thin wax paper and off he went to get more rolls to sell. Next, I haggled with the tamale vendors (there were 3 on hand) and gave each $20 ($60 total) for 60 tamales which was double what they were selling them for, they left the tamales on paper plates, and since they were already individually wrapped in aluminum foil they would hopefully still be warm when everyone got up.

I took a bread and two tamales on a paper plate and walked down the beach. I left my sandals back at the tent so I tried dipping my toes in the water as the waves lapped up to shore. It's a lonely experience not being able to sleep; I go to bed after the night owls and I'm up before the farmers. I checked my email and got a reply back for IreneAdler confirming that she would be there. After I ate my meal, I walked back to my tent just in time to see Isabella pop her head out.

"Good morning, beautiful," I swooned happily.

"Good morning, I was wondering where you went," she grunted groggily, she looked like she could use a coffee.

"Go back to sleep - unless you want to watch the sunrise with me?" I hoped, "There is some pan dulce and tamales on the table, I was just about to heat up some water on the [camping] stove for some coffee."

"Arrgh, sleep sounds good but you make a compelling argument to wake up... ok I need to change I'll be right back."

I put a kettle of water on and started the stove, then grabbed some coffee out of my Jeep along with some filters, mugs and other coffee accoutrements and set them up on the breakfast table. Isabella returned just in time for the water to boil and we were able to take some coffee and breakfast close to the water line and sat with our backs to the water watched the sun rise over the resort. After she ate her food and had her coffee she rested her head on my shoulder contented.

Not long after that, the rest of the camp started to stir as the blinding sun beamed into their tents as an alarm for the hangoverless, and soon people were gathering at their surprise breakfast table.

"Did you do all of this?" Isabella wondered, gesturing at all of the food.

"I think it was a bored Santa Claus on vacation from the North Pole," I lied with a grin and Isabella stared at me in wonder.

"I need to go somewhere today; do you want to go with me?" she hoped.

"You don't want to ask me about last night?"

"I thought about it and I think you'll tell me in your own time," she stated nobly.

"I was going to do some volunteer work later today but I can put it off for later, where are you going?"

"I don't know where it is but it's called Miracle Ranch Orphanage."

"You serious? That's where I'm volunteering today. What a small world."

She looked at me shocked and then got excited, "Wonderful, let me get a quick shower and freshen up. So, what do you think? We leave in an hour?"

"Sure thing, I'll wait for you next to the Jeep."

I wrote out a note for George and left him a couple hundred dollars for a taxi, food or beers in town (he wouldn't likely wake up until well past noon anyhow and without the jeep he might need a taxi into town). I went over and peeked inside his tent noticing he had a random female sleeping next to him and shook him awake. I gave him the note and money to which he grumbled at me and stuffed everything under his pillow and went right back to sleep.

About an hour later we were on the road north passing through Ensenada heading towards Federal Highway 1. Isabella was stunning that morning in a light blue sundress with a pair of sandals and sunglasses on. I had the top down so the wind was blowing through her hair and we were playing music off her iPhone connected to my radio.

"It's too bad you weren't still in bed when I woke up" she mentioned nonchalantly.

"Sorry I don't get much sleep usually" I related, to which she looked at me in contemplation. "Don't tell me I would've gotten lucky or I'm liable to crash," I joked.

"Well it depends on how you define 'lucky'. You wouldn't have gotten laid but I might have convinced myself to give you a blow job; after all, you did give me the most incredible orgasm of my life last night," she grinned mischievously.

I faked a heart attack like Redd Foxx and pretended to lose control of the car for a second, to which I got a slap on the arm and her calling me a pain in the ass. She asked me why I was going to the orphanage and I let her know that I have been going there most summers since I was little doing volunteer work. Even though they had a full-time handyman, he was getting old and often had a backlog of things for me to work on. I failed to mention that the handyman was my grandfather, he could be embarrassing at the best of times and scare people away at the worst.

*****

My mother's father divorced my grandmother before I was born. He was very much a brilliant man and a recluse. He worked for an American Christian missionary institution that ran the orphanage in Baja, Mexico ten miles north and east of Ensenada. He was a master chief electrician for the Navy where he served in Korea and later rejoined the Navy for 8 more years. He later worked at a "bible college" in Canada and eventually migrated to the orphanage. He used his "MacGyver" like skills he learned in the Navy to fix the generators, cars, trucks and pretty much anything else that was broken in the orphanage; duct tape was his best friend. When I was a child I often stayed with him over the summer and learned the basics of how to fix things. I knew the basics of diesel engine repair before I was 10.

I suspect that my grandfather has Asperger's syndrome as he has all of the signs. To talk to my grandfather, you would never know him to be abusive because outwardly he was very kind, soft spoken and loved a good pun; he was also very quiet and kept to himself and all of the children at the orphanage loved him. However, he was fanatical with his faith, especially with his family and if you were doing anything that he perceived the Bible said was wrong, you would face his wrath. Although my mother ran away from home when she was a teen, part of her was also acclimated to the abuse and control my grandfather had over his family. (which might explain why she stayed with my father as long as she had). As long as he doesn't catch you 'using the Lord's name in vain,' breaking a commandment or using a curse word, he was the nicest guy around and I knew how to act around him.

Needless to say, this could conceivably put off a potential girlfriend; I had every intention of introducing them, just not right away.

*****

We were a couple miles away from the orphanage when, "You must know a lot of people who have worked there over the years, you don't happen to know a David Gunnarson [My Grandfather] do you?" Isabella asked..

"Yeah, I know David, we're pals."

"So, what will you be doing today?" she queried.

"Oh, I'm a jack-of-all-trades so it's whatever needs to be done at the time. David is the regular maintenance guy so I just try to help him with any backlogged projects he might need to have done. I learned to fix diesel engines and they always have one in need of fixing. Often times people will donate their clunkers to the orphanage and we will fix them up to sell for the orphanage," I informed and to my joy she looked impressed.

Federal Highway 1 had hills on one side and a valley on the other. The orphanage and campground along with other various homes, farms and ranches were nestled into the valley and bordered by the highway on the west side and a river on its east side and the river had hills on its other side. The stream was normally dry in the summer except there had been an exceptional amount of rain that year so there was still a trickle running through it and quite a few pools meandering up and down the stream bed. All along the valley were copses of oak trees and the hills were covered with desert flora, mainly cacti and brush.

We wound our way through the mountain until we passed the public pool; I knew we were close.

"Honey, we're here," I joked, noticing she was dozing off.

She smiled and rubbed my arm followed by a peck on the cheek. We passed the orphanage on the right and pulled in an entrance at the end where my grandfather stayed.

"Wow, that was fast," she exclaimed.

"Most of the orphans are in school right now so I'm not sure who is here. I'll see if David is home or down in one of his usual spots. Do you want to come?"

"I don't know anyone here and it feels awkward."

"Well, how about I make a quick cursory search and you wait in the car? I'll be back in 10 minutes," I said trying to be helpful.

In a way, I felt suspicious about her behavior. Why would she come all the way down to Mexico to see my grandfather? He wasn't anyone special, he gave all of his earnings, VA benefits and Social Security to the church. He lived like a poor man I guess it made him feel closer to Jesus or something. But, I had my secrets and I didn't want to pry into hers until I was ready to share mine.

My grandfather lived in a building that was really just a room with two doors on the sides and one in the front with a small porch and three windows that were obstructed by piled high boxes full of various parts and odds and ends (a shack really). It had no bathroom or plumbing so my grandfather attached a small mobile trailer to the side making it a kluge two room place. The mobile home had a small bathroom, kitchenette, refrigerator and bed. I remember growing up he always had a loaf of government cheddar cheese, chocolate spread, prunes, dates, raisins and oatmeal handy, as well as packets of hot chocolate and evaporated milk. It really wasn't set up for guests and although I could make room in his shack to sleep on the floor as I did as a child I felt more comfortable at El Faro where I could be myself without fear of reprisals.

I knocked on the side door facing the highway and when there was no answer I walked in (my grandfather rarely locked his door). I peeked in his trailer and noticed his dishes weren't done so he must still be around somewhere.

"He's not home," I called out, "I'll go check down at the generator and be right back."

About 10 yards east of my grandfather's shack was a goat pen and as I walked south the dirt path sloped downward towards the orphanage. Every so often you could hear the baying of the goats, roosters crowing, and off in the distance pigs were snorting. The orphanage looked like a ghost town when the kids weren't around. Like an old west town there were buildings splitting a wide-open dirt path with bungalows on one side and a cafeteria, church and other utility type buildings on the side close to the river. Toward the southwestern end, there was an open courtyard with a tire swing hanging under a large oak and a huge teeter-totter off to the side.

"Wedo!" I heard a female cry. [Spanish] "What are you doing here?"

I was often called "Wedo" or "Blondie" by all of the orphans whether they knew my name or not.

[Spanish] "Maria! Nice to see you again. I came down for the summer to help my grandfather. Do you know where he is?"