Bessie's Island Pt. 02: Christie

I'd seen Martin on the elevator and we shared a bench and talked a little at lunch one day. But my first significant interaction with him was not during one of my better days. Debbie had called me the previous night after Martin left and told me Gary was dead.

Gary had relocated to Portland when he was paroled. He was living with a woman, Maryann, I was acquainted with from my home town. He apparently started abusing her soon after they moved in together. Maryann had shot him in the neck after he beat her and threw her across the room.

I don't know why I did it, but I spent the previous night waiting to post her bond, even though she was handcuffed to a hospital bed. I also arranged legal representation for her. Once I knew she was safely in the hands of family, I drove back to Boston, changed and left for work.

I stopped to have something to eat at a place near my apartment. When I was fetching my coat from the self-service coat room, it slipped off the hanger onto the floor. I bent over to pick it up. A strange man groped me. Angry and mortified, I turned to face him and found him leering at me. He was huge and menacing.

'What are you gonna do about it, sweetie?' he snarled as he turned away and left the restaurant.

Terrified and distraught, I ran out of the cloakroom as fast as I could. I sought out someone from the restaurant staff. When I explained what happened to the manager, she offered to call the police, but I didn't want to spend more time in a police station. I'd had enough the previous night. He'd already left and while the manager and staff remembered him, none of the staff remembered seeing him before that day. I didn't want to be alone when I went out to hail a cab. She grabbed her coat and went outside to wait with me. He was nowhere in sight. I managed to get a cab without incident.

I'd calmed somewhat by the time I got on the elevator. But when I saw Martin was on it with me, I fell apart again. Martin was sweet and wanted to help. It was irrational on some level, but I just wanted to get away from him. When I got to my office, the office manager was in the lobby and quickly realized something was wrong with me. After I explained my night and the beginning of my day, she suggested the best thing for me, since I refused to report the incident to the police, was to take the rest of the day. I called Dr. Casey from my office and went straight to her office when she said she had an open hour.

After we'd been on the island a few days, I took Martin out to my favorite spot. I used to sit there when I wanted to be alone and stare out at the vast expanse of water. I told him about my grandfather and the family legend of Bessie's Island. Typical guy, he was enthralled by the wartime intrigue. I was pleased he expressed admiration for my great-grandmother and grandmother. I wanted to sit there longer but the weather turned ugly.

When we started across the field behind the cabin, I remembered the depression that filled up with water and made a great sliding pit that my cousins and I played in. Without explaining, I took his hand and ran toward the huge puddle. We dropped down and slid in the grass like children. He laughed as much as I did. We slid through the puddle repeatedly, turning it muddy and ever more slippery.

I tried to kiss him, but we fell. I did manage a kiss when we were in the mud, facing each other. But I was unnerved at my sudden desire and starting to get a chill, so I led us back to the cabin. I didn't want to go inside covered in mud. I took a deep breath and stripped down to rinse under the outside shower. While I rinsed, I told Martin to get out of his clothes. When I was rinsed, I stepped aside so he could take a turn.

I was shivering and should have gone inside but I was curious. Martin was in great shape. I'm not a fan of monster penises, but I was disappointed when I saw his. As we dried off inside, I remembered a sitcom episode about shrinkage of the male anatomy in cold or wet conditions. I maneuvered us into taking a hot shower together. I glanced at Martin surreptitiously as we warmed and was pleased to see he was normal-sized.

I decided to take advantage of Martin's presence and had him wash my back. His gentle touch with the luffa was delicious. I returned the favor and found I was enjoying myself. When I turned him around to wash his front, he was erect. He apparently enjoyed my touch more than I had intended. I was beginning to feel some stirrings myself. When I washed his lower body, I began to get uncomfortably aroused. Facing his erection just exacerbated my growing problem.

After I finished washing him, I handed the sponge to him without considering the potential consequences. My knees got weak when he washed my breasts. Martin was respectful and focused on the task at hand. I wanted him to tease me. But I couldn't bring myself to let him know what he was doing to me, just by being there with me. Just by gently washing the dirt from me. I was already on the verge of an orgasm when he reached between my legs with the sponge. It wasn't an overpowering orgasm. But it was an orgasm. I felt my vagina spasm as long-avoided sensations rippled inside me. I did my best to stifle a sigh of pleasure. I don't think Martin had an idea what he had done to me.

I dried off quickly after stepping out of the shower and wrapped myself in the towel. I could feel my vaginal fluids starting to flow down my leg. I told him I'd meet him in the den and suggested he build a fire. Once he was gone, I leaned on the sink and shook uncontrollably.

But something had changed. Whenever I looked at myself in the mirror, I had been seeing a flash of the woman with a black eye and stitched-up fat lip. The bruised swollen cheek. I didn't see her this time. I saw Christie, the smart, fun-loving, confident girl with a bright future. That was when I knew it was time.

I did my hair. Shaved my legs and pits. Trimmed where I hadn't felt the need to trim in some time. I wore only a heavy terry cloth robe and slippers when I joined Martin in the great room. I sat near, but not close to him on the couch. I pretended to be mesmerized by the fire while I tried to rein in my excitement and gather my thoughts.

I botched it badly. The conversation started awkwardly and quickly deteriorated. Martin briefly got angry because he thought I was breaking up with him. Nervous and still unsure, I'd chosen my words poorly. I had put my foot in my mouth, nearly to the groin. Fortunately, I finally managed to get him to understand what I was trying to say. The fault was mine, not his.

When I sat on his lap and dropped the robe from my shoulders, Martin fell silent. I got more aroused watching him look at me. I couldn't the way he was looking at me would excite me so much. His erection felt good pressing against me. When he finished opening my robe, I didn't flinch. I knew I was ready. When he pulled me close, I began to cry. I couldn't hold back the tears. I was touched when he expressed his concern. When he wanted to make sure I was okay.

I had to tell him what I wanted. In the state I was in, I wasn't going to be able to contain myself. I wasn't above thinking with expletives. But I never used them when I spoke. I felt the time was appropriate for some strong language. I told him pointedly I didn't want to make love. I wanted to fuck. The look on his face was priceless.

The first few minutes in the bedroom was comic as Martin struggled to get out of his clothes. I laughed with more easily than I had in ages. Once I had him in my bed, I couldn't wait. I gave his manhood a brief tour of my mouth and lips. Too brief for his liking I'm sure. Then I climbed on top of him, grasped his cock and rubbed it along my sex. I almost came when the head contacted my clit. It felt so good I couldn't help but let out a sigh. I wanted him inside me, so I guided the head to my opening and lowered myself until just the head was inside me. I kept it there for a few moments, enjoying the feel of it. But ultimately, I wanted more. I lowered myself slowly until he was completely inside me.

I couldn't control my breathing or what my body was doing. I felt my vaginal walls spasming as I had another orgasm. I could feel my insides gripping Martin's cock as I pulled my self tightly against him. I felt a smile curl my lips.

Once the sensations had ceased, I knew it wasn't going to be enough. I slowly raised myself up Martin's length, regretting the feel of his hardness leaving me but knowing how good it was going to feel when he slid back inside me. When I lowered myself again, my whole body shook as I came again. I couldn't believe the way my body was reacting. Every movement seemed to lead to a sensation I'd never experienced.

It hurt a bit to be penetrated at first. But it elicited other sensations that made any discomfort irrelevant. I soon became accustomed to feel of Martin inside me but was unable to resist what my body was demanding. I started rapidly riding the stiff rod under me. Each time I was filled, the pleasure I felt grew in intensity. Eventually, I had to lean forward and support my upper body on Martin's chest while I pumped my hips rapidly.

Martin remained still under me. In the back of my mind, I worried that he wasn't going to be much of a participant. I was almost ready to drop. I couldn't breathe fast enough to support the energy I was expending. But my concerns were soon allayed. Just when I was about to collapse in exhaustion, Martin acquitted himself.

I felt Martin grasp my hips and hold tight. He held me in place when he was almost completely out of me and then drove himself into me forcefully. When he withdrew, I fell onto him with a grunt. We did this repeatedly. Though it felt good, the rhythm was awkward and disjointed. Martin finally held my hips in place and began forcefully, rhythmically driving into me.

I felt Martin's grip on my hips tighten, so I held them in place as he forcefully drove his cock into me. The sensations emanating from my groin overwhelmed my body so much I couldn't keep my body upright. I fell forward onto his chest. Martin was pumping in and out of me so fast and so hard, I felt like I was on top of an earthquake.

I was having trouble breathing but Martin was gasping for breath. My hips begin to rock to meet his thrusts, though it wasn't due to any conscious decision on my part. The tingling in my vagina grew rapidly, becoming so intense that it became the only thing I was aware of. It built to a crescendo and then burst out through my entire body. I heard a scream as the most incredible orgasm I could imagine wracked my body. It didn't dawn on me that the scream might have been mine.

Martin drove into me one more time and held me tightly against him. I felt his cock twitching as he emptied himself into me. When it stopped twitching, he withdrew and slammed into me again. I felt no resistance, no pressure, as he slid into me. My insides were warm and slick. A sense of complete satisfaction overwhelmed me as I realized why he now entered me so easily.

Finally, I could take no more. Though I felt better than I could ever remember. My hips ached. But even that felt good. When Martin pushed into me again, I begged him to stop. He took the liberty of some gentle thrusts before he stopped. His cock, still buried in me, felt like it was where it should always be. I was in no hurry for him to take it out. After a few moments, though, I felt it softening and soon felt it fall out of me. I unintentionally gave my disappointment voice. The last thing I remember before I fell asleep was feeling something dripping out of me.

I woke later because, as I'd heard an old boyfriend with a juvenile sense of humor describe his urgent need one morning, my eyeballs were floating. Martin had an arm over me and an erection poking into my backside. I slipped out from under him and quietly took leave to relieve myself.

Martin was restless and moaning softly when I returned. I sat and watched him dream for a moment. He had tossed the covers off himself. In the dim light, I caught sight of the erection that had been poking me. I immediately wanted him inside me again but felt too guilty to wake him for my own pleasure. Initially, I decided to just lie down and go back to sleep. It didn't work out that way. The desire building in me was too great to ignore.

I settled on my side facing him, with his cock in front of my face. I moved my hand to my clit and softly massaged it with a finger. It was still moist from our earlier exploits. My breaths were soon coming faster. I couldn't resist slipping my fingers inside myself. I was still slick and wet with Martin's cum. As my excitement grew, it felt like something was missing. Without a conscious thought, I took the head of Martin's erection between my lips and sucked gently. The taste of salty precum supercharged my urges.

I had been working my fingers in and out for several minutes when I felt Martin entangle his fingers in my hair. I moved my mouth up his shaft until only the glans and head were between my lips and sucked harder. When I felt his tongue on the back of my hand, I got even more excited. I rolled toward Martin and threw my leg across him. I found it strangely erotic when he licked and kissed the back of my hand as I rubbed my clit furiously.

I felt the tingling inside me begin, intensifying and spreading rapidly. When the sensation had engulfed my whole body, my hips began rocking back and forth. My hand mashed Martin's nose. I moaned as my orgasm continued intensifying. I got a taste of more precum and panicked. Selfishly, I didn't want Martin to cum yet. I wanted him inside me again. I rolled onto my back and finished the self-induced torture of my nervous system.

My body was still quivering when I straddled Martin. I had to push him onto his back before he could enter me. He slid in easily, without being guided. Between the remnants of our earlier coupling, my masturbation and cock-sucking, I was slick and wet. Once he was inside me, I lost all any pretense of delayed gratification. I just wanted to feel his hard, erect cock piercing me, filling me, pushing me to new heights of bliss.

I knew I couldn't maintain the pace I set and hoped Martin would step up again before I ran out of gas. He didn't disappoint. When he reached up to cup my breasts, I leaned into his hands. My nipples were so hard they hurt pressed into his palms. While he held my breasts, he pushed himself into me hard, again and again and again as I drove myself down to meet his thrusts. My body went into overload. My orgasm sent my vagina into spasm. Needles and pins spread throughout my body. Chills ran up and down my spine. My nervous system was making every muscle shake and twitch.

I'm not sure how I knew, but I sensed he was about to cum. I looked down at him and told him to cum inside me. I told him how much I loved the wet, slick feeling inside me when he filled me with cum earlier. He drove up into me so hard I fell forward. I felt his erection twitching as semen pumped into me. When his cock stopped twitching, Martin fell still under me. We were both gasping for breath.

It felt like I was vibrating as he held me close. I felt the sheet and blanket cover me as I crushed my body against his. I couldn't remember ever feeling so satisfied. Eventually, my legs began to rebel against being bent under me. I rolled off Martin and snuggled up against him. I remember mumbling something as I began to drift off. I know I told him I loved him. It came out as naturally as a breath though I hadn't consciously decided to tell him so. The last thing I recall before a deep sleep descended was Martin's fading voice telling me he loved me, too.

It was mid-morning when I woke. Martin was sound asleep. I bounded out of bed full of energy. My hips ached when I sat in the bathroom. But the rest of my body felt so good I didn't care. After quickly washing up, I checked on Martin. He was still asleep. I checked to see if he had an erection. He didn't. I probably would have climbed back into bed if he did. I went to the kitchen instead.

I made coffee and sat on the porch while I drank that first cup. When I decided to get up to make breakfast, my butt stuck to the chair. I hadn't bothered to put on any clothes. I decided to remain as I was just to see the look on Martin's face when he finally rolled out of bed.

I fixed breakfast. Not wanting to get burned while I cooked naked, I made a frittata. I had just finished putting the final touches on breakfast when Martin joined me. He was dressed and clean-shaven when he came into the kitchen. He rubbed his eyes several times. I knew I was grinning and didn't fight it. I teased him, suggesting I didn't understand why he had slept so late. All he could do was stare at me in disbelief. I loved it. Martin waited for me to sit before he sat at the table. We ate enthusiastically. We didn't talk at all over breakfast, just looked at each other wearing grins that wouldn't go away.

I don't know why, but that morning I decided to take Martin and show him a spot I hadn't shown anyone. Not even my father. There was a spot, on top of a cliff at the north end of the island, that I found while I was an undergrad. Little bits of flint riddled the ground. Numerous larger pieces scattered about looked like, and according to the research I did, proved to be failed tools. I had thoroughly researched what I found and was confident it was archaeologically significant. I told no one where it was. Researchers would have wanted access and I wasn't sure I wanted to have a big excavation team on the island.

Martin was curious and listened closely to what I told him. And to his credit, he kept his distance from the spot I pointed out, knowing he shouldn't disturb it. But as he looked around at the terrain, I could tell he was skeptical. That was fair. I had some doubts, too. The location wasn't readily inaccessible from the water. There were more sensible locations on the island.

The weather that morning looked iffy and the wind had picked up considerably since we left the cabin. We decided to head back before we found ourselves caught in another storm. By the time we were approaching the cabin, it was warmer, and the humidity was up. Faint thunder could be heard. Distant lightning could be seen in the west.

We sat together on the porch. My feet hurt. I'd forgotten I didn't wear those boots anymore because they made my feet hurt. I took the boots off and began rubbing my foot, complaining about the discomfort. Martin gallantly offered a foot rub which I happily accepted.

His hands were deliciously effective. The discomfort seemed to melt away under his firm touch. By the time he finished with my right foot it felt wonderful. I didn't have to coax him into doing the other foot. My feet felt so good I decided he deserved some appropriate reward. I hadn't decided what that might be though I had been absent-mindedly been teasing him with my free foot.

I worked my free foot up the leg of his shorts and played with his cock. It was standing tall, straining against his shorts. I coyly acted innocent, asking if had done something inappropriate. I liked his response. I sat on his lap, kissed his lips, then trailed soft kisses down his cheek and along his jaw while I stroked my fingers through the hair above one ear.

I wanted to drop my pants and climb on top of his hard-on but when I heard him sigh, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I told him I'd try to relieve his discomfort and slid off his lap onto the floor. I ran my hand up the legs of his shorts, grazing my fingernails along the insides of his thighs and briefly catching the nails on his scrotum. When I grasped the waist of his shorts from inside them, he instinctively lifted his hips to allow them to be easily removed.