Cross Passage

"Max, I've been waiting." She whispered and leapt into my arms with her face buried at my throat. I didn't have any words to say at the moment; I just relished in the lust and desire I felt for her. Her lips pressed against mine and our embrace remained in the foyer with the door open to the street beyond.

"Come in, please" Her voice throaty with desire.

Somehow we made it into the living room and she led me into her kitchen and poured a couple shots of Cognac side by side and we toasted my awaited arrival. Once settled I took in her home. It was comfortably furnished with European antiques and had an air of old conservative comfort. Family pictures were on the mantle including one of her daughter who was strikingly beautiful and another of Denis Toller with his late wife and Kirsten's mother.

"Papa lives with me and keeps the third floor as his, has since Mama died four years ago. My sister, Lydia stays on the second floor when she's in town but that's less and less now since she found a new beau to play with." She smiled somewhat coyly. "And of course Marlene and I as well."

We settled for a bit before leaving for dinner and the more I admired her, the more I felt like a young man who just discovered the true love of his life. If I was just a young man, I'd believe it but being a man who has lived life beyond the restless senses I knew the complications as did Kirsten.

"Max, when my former husband left me it was a long time before I would sign the paperwork, almost two years and he was very patient even though he had another woman on his arm in NYC who wanted to marry him. To spite him I fucked through three men and a woman out of revenge mostly even though I secretly hoped he would come back to me. He never did and Lydia convinced me to sign. Then he wanted to come back of all things. I wouldn't have any part of him by then."

"He was a fool." I said seriously.

"Yes, and so is your wife for throwing you away as she did."

Her divorce was an entirely different matter than my own. They both allowed their marriage to disintegrate until each was in the arms of others and blame was a common commodity. Had I known the peril I would have acted quickly to stem it with Tammy but hindsight is as valuable as ignorance in that regard. It didn't matter if Tammy signed or not; the court would issue a decree eventually and of course I had convinced myself that I was never going to rush into another relationship to that end...

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she came over and sat in my lap. "Let's eat in." She whispered in my ear.

With a large overstuffed satin pillow under her full naked ass and her thighs opened wide, Kirsten sloshed her fingers in and out of her pink vagina as she beckoned me closer.

"Eat me again, Max... lick my pussy... Oh my god, yes. I love that. Do my ass too. Lick my ass... fuck that is good."

Her fingers were tossing and working my hair and scalp as she fucked her wet pussy all over my mouth and chin. I stayed with it lapping her engorged clitoris and working the tip of my tongue down to her ass and back.

"Jesus, Max, do my ass like that... I love it... oh my god, yes"

Kirsten exploded in an orgasm as I flicked my tongue in and around her puckered ass. At some point I just held on until it subsided and she released my face and hair from her strong grip.

"Assume the position, baby." She huskily demanded as I rolled over onto my back and like our first time she mounted my face and began fucking my mouth with her cunt and ass. For me this was musk heaven. My lover didn't have a little girl skinny ass and a shaven smooth pussy. Her ass was mature and full, her pussy ringed with dark curls and her clitoris fully emerged from her hood.

Kirsten let loose. "Suck my big clit, baby, suck it."

If I was relishing satisfying her orally, she was absolutely immersed in her desire for it. As she grasped the old carved headboard above us she burst into a series of long, mind bursting orgasms with her cunt and ass stuck to my mouth and face.

When her panting had subsided Kirsten swung around and dropped her wet talented mouth onto my cock and started giving me a blowjob like none I had ever had. It was hot, wet, liquid, and smooth with perfect sucking pressure in both directions. She didn't give me an opportunity to stop her; her body was positioned in a manner to stop my hands from interfering.

She sucked and licked and took each ball into her mouth and washed them with her saliva and kissed them before returning to my engorged prick. She didn't just suck me, she made love to it with the depths of her mouth, her lips and tongue and her fingers until I couldn't hold back.

"Jesus, I'm cumming." I groaned in sexual satisfaction.

Both hands began stroking my prick as she ran the tip and slit over her open mouth and lips and even her nostrils. I began spurting milky white jets of cum, one after the other across her lips and chin and into her open mouth. The volume began drooling down, hanging off her chin as she looked up at me, a spurt hanging off one eyelid.

I couldn't help but break out into a laugh as I studied my vixen with her smoky eyes almost lidded with semen. I'd be a while before I fully recovered to make love to this precious goddess but with the blue magic still in prime time I'd be good for it.

The full breasted woman with firm, wide hips has always been my thing for as long as I can remember, long before Tammy. Kirsten was the utter fulfilment of it, perhaps the most beautiful breasts I'd ever played with. I couldn't take it anymore.

"I need to fuck you." I whispered in her ear with my prick right at her pink slit. She just opened her thighs wide and welcomed me in.

Love always succumbs to lust when the heat of a vagina seizes my prick in a robust fuck; this was the same. I pounded a fuck into Kirsten and watched her face change expression from dreamy to lust filled insatiability as her fingers found my ass and raked it in the midst of a vaginal orgasm. She writhed beneath me and like a teenager lost in passion sucked her mouth onto my throat as I started my own orgasm and finished half collapsed on top of her.

The slow ceiling fan above us continued in motion as we lay there sated and moist, speechless for a moment however short-lived.

"Max, where was it you said you went to school to be an engineer? Castine, was it? In New England?"

"Yes, it was at Maine Maritime Academy in Castine, Maine... wonderful little place on the coast of Maine. I'll show it to you on a map when we get the chance."

"I'd like to do more than that. I'd like to see Maine. Papa says it's a lot like Norway but with a much rockier and wild coast. It sounds like a great place. Maybe you could take me there someday?"

I nodded and smiled, both outwardly and inward. I couldn't imagine a better time than to be holed up in a cottage in Downeast Maine on vacation with this woman. When I was a young man I always envisioned moving back to Castine or even out on Vinalhaven. It was a romantic notion, not always practical so I kept to the back of the mind through the years.

"I've got a lot of fond memories of the place. It's wonderful in the summer although it can be a bit bleak in the winter months. Maybe during one of my off rotations we can make the trip."

There was the sparkle again in her eyes...

Kirsten had an old school German breakfast for me in the morning, well, old school to my tastes. It was an open face easy over eggs and ham slices on Pumpernickel with black coffee and a pastry.

"Denis is not here?" I asked noting his absence.

"Oh no, he's in Hamburg at a conference."

I felt a bit of relief knowing he wasn't here while I was fucking his daughter in the midst of her quite vocal encouragements. She just grinned as if she read my mind.

"Where are you off to next?" She asked.

"Standing que to go through the Suez, unfortunately."

"Papa says the captains hate that, most of them."

"He's right. We could sit at Port Said a long time if we hit it wrong. The good thing about it is I'll end my rotation here at Bremerhaven in five weeks. That gives me six weeks off rotation right at the start of summer."

I could imagine the wheels turning in her head but for now I needed to finish up and get back shipside. We had a long goodbye and she drove me to the riverside quay where I relieved my watch officer...

I watched the four men board the Molly Seine off the starboard gateway, each with black duffle bags and grey stocking caps on their heads. They kept to themselves mostly, securing their rigging in the bow hold and just observing deck conditions.

They were PMSC riggers, private maritime security company hired guns that several shipping companies were adding for trips down through the Indian Ocean because of the Islamic pirates operating off the Gulf of Aden, through the Mozambique Channel and even off the seaward side of Madagascar near Saint-Denis on Reunion. We were carrying cargo destined for Athens, South Africa and Argentina otherwise I would have avoided the Horn of Africa route at nearly any cost.

"Captain, Port Said has us cleared for straight entry to the canal once we clear Zakros." My 1st Officer reported.

That was good news for timing. That meant most of the merchant traffic was behind us and they would put us into the canal with no wait. When we passed through Port Said the riggers became much more active, taking up watch positions as we journeyed south. It wasn't just the Indian Ocean pirates to have some concern over; the radical Islamists on both banks were a constant thorn although the Egyptian army kept a firm hand on most of the area.

We hit the Red Sea without incident and continued south as we approached the coast of Somalia and then the bridge watch alerted our riggers. Off to port side a small trawler was launching a couple of outboards with crews of five or six in each one, maybe more if down in the bow.

"Captain, we're taking fire." My 2nd shouted out. We could hear the rapid succession of pings hitting the port wall of the bridge before a couple of the riggers opened up on one of the approaching outboards. The crew had already moved off deck and was out of harm's way. Only I and the five officers along with the riggers were above deck.

Then all hell broke loose when a rocket flew past the bridge just missing the first stack of containers ten feet below us.

"Jesus H. Christ, you men drop back behind the partition." I yelled out to them wanting them to take position behind a security wall we have up on the bridge for just these scenarios. It wasn't a safe room but more of a deflective barrier instead.

The riggers were returning heavy machine gun fire at the trawler, multiple round bursts of .50 calibers. When the rocket went past us, one of the riggers shouldered what I was told later was a Gustof M3 MAAWS and got his rocket off just before a 2nd rocket from the trawler struck the portside stern and shook us all the way to the bow even though it wasn't a serious hit.

The trawler on the other hand took a direct hit on one of its fuel tanks and blew the rig completely in two in a massive fireball. That is when all four of the riggers opened up with everything they had on the two outboards and seconds later both of them were engulfed in black smoke and flames.

We could see the terrorists jumping from the boat into the warm waters perhaps hoping we were going to rescue their miserable asses from a certain death at sea, either by drowning or becoming chum in the belly of a shark. The Molly Seine was at full speed of 23 knots. There was no way I was going to pull back and take the time to slowly circle back to pick up the fools who just tried to commandeer us with rockets and gunfire. We were in international waters and while I answered to the home office,

I was the law; we were under no obligation other than to notify the nearest nautical authorities, friendly ones, of what happened. As long as we were still seaworthy, we were not stopping for a single damn soul until we got to Cape Town.

"Captain, I've got one man with a superficial wound to his left arm and it's being treated. Two of my men collected all the brass they could find and with your permission we'll regroup and prepare for the rest of this voyage. We aren't out of range yet."

He was a young man, maybe early thirties and reminded me of an ex-Navy instructor I had back in school and he was right; we had a good ways to go. That was when the adrenaline started to wear off and I needed to grab a seat. It was one thing to anticipate it; it was another thing altogether to experience the real thing.

That's when I decided enough was enough. Two rotations in a row with serious incidents; the one with Kirsten and now this, a fucking terrorist pirate attack. I figured I'd let the home office know I'd be changing my mind about doing this much longer. Until then I sat my 1st and 2nd officers down, put three tumblers on the board and three fingers of cognac in each one.

"Here's one for the high seas and another dollar earned, fellows." We toasted, tipped it up and did it one more time before I put a satellite call to the home office...

Three weeks later we were pushing through the English Channel on our way to Bremerhaven. The PMSC riggers put off at Cape Town and flew to Indonesia for another assignment. We only had minimal damage to the stern rail and two damaged containers; all in all a fortunate end. My Portuguese crew didn't think so; one of the chiefs indicated he thought over half the crew was going to quit once they hit shore. "They are not soldiers." He said.

'Indeed, who is?" I thought to myself as I opened the email my attorney sent to me a couple days earlier...

The plane touched down at Charleston International, the second leg of a flight out of Frankfurt am Main through Dulles and I grabbed an Uber to take me down the peninsula. My old neighbor Mr. Shields had planted a fresh row of roses along his front windows and they were in full bloom.

"Your girls have been a good help, Mr. Bunyon. Nice girls, both of them." He said as I dropped off the pastries he loved from Kaminski's.

"Two of the best." I smiled as I turned toward the Iron Gate. The craftsman had soldered the latch and everything was solid again as I deadheaded some old blooms on the walk to the back door.

With a fresh cup of coffee I started going through the email and attached letter I had received from my attorney several days earlier. Tammy had still not signed the papers instead insisting on what she called a 'second chance' and a sit down here at the house. She had returned to Charleston a couple weeks earlier, apparently her several months long perfidy swoon having come to an end.

Anger was steaming the collar of my shirt by the time I read through her platitudes for the umpteenth time and I immediately ruled out any meeting at the house. I just could not imagine any circumstance that could get us past her infidelities and now, with my affair with Kirsten muddying the waters even further it struck me as ridiculous to even try. Nonetheless I called my attorney to set up the meeting on neutral ground. I wanted barbeque so he set it up at Bessingers, west of the Ashley.

I filled the Styrofoam four pocket container with heaps of pulled port and ribs and fixings before claiming one of the outdoor picnic tables and had a waitress bring a pitcher of sweet tea; it might be an unpleasant meeting but I was going to eat like a southern king.

Tammy joined me with a much smaller portion a few minutes later. I had to give it to her. If this had been a date I would have buried dick right to the hilt in sheer lust. She was wearing a sundress with a couple buttons undone that otherwise would have been closed. The hem was a good bit high on the thigh and with those muscular legs and firm tits she was obviously trolling for her husband.

What she didn't anticipate was the imagination; an imagination that put another man, the Caucasian Mandingo Jim Dahlberg plowing a naked fuck into her cunt with that sundress bunched around her waist in his smarmy little nest in Vancouver. I suppressed a slight smile at the condition of his jaw bone.

"Tammy, it's your meeting." I mumbled with a sauced hushpuppy in my mouth.

She didn't waste any time. "I want to come home, Max." pausing for my reaction.

"I want to come home and try to get back what I foolishly and recklessly threw away. I know I have a hard row to hoe but I'm asking for that chance."

She didn't realize it but this just meant she wanted to go back to that rainy day on Anson Street and have a do over. I was having nothing of it. I reached for the plastic bottle of spicy Carolina sauce and squirted a taste on my fork.

"Remember the Christmas party a year ago last? The one where Jim Dahlberg kept holding the mistletoe over the head of any woman he could get close to, including you? He was fucking your married pussy then, wasn't he? I was thinking back on that the other day. The prick knew where the bathroom was on the 2nd floor. Hell, he knew where everything was, didn't he? You've been offering up your prime ass to him for a long time and you think you just have a hard row to hoe?"

I took a bite of my pulled pork sandwich and savored the taste for a moment as I waited for her response. I know it sounds flippant but she had already broken my heart and I'd shed all the tears I was going to shed. I had other things I wanted to know.

"I want to know about that fucking toad, Thomas Pryor. How in hell did he get to slosh around in your little pink kitty given you have Dahlberg laying pipe in you on a regular basis?"

Tammy was on the verge of tears at that point but she stiffened her lip.

"Thomas was blackmailing me." She said in a hushed tone. "He caught Jim and I together after classes one afternoon and threatened to go to you. He had us on a video on his phone. Jesus Christ, Max, I didn't want any of this. The thing with Jim was getting out of control and then Thomas. I didn't think and when Jim told me to get away from it all by going to Vancouver I thought that would be the end of it. I didn't know Jim was going to show up. I was weak around him. He has that effect on women; I don't know what it is."

"I know what it is, Tammy. It's a cheating wife, a year and a half of a cheating fuck around wife. It was back before that Christmas, wasn't it?"

She didn't need to answer; I could see it on her face. I half expected the blackmail angle because I just couldn't see Tammy fucking that toad's dick willingly. I convinced myself I'd have to deal with that later.

"Tammy, I don't see where anything has changed from where we were back in Vancouver. In fact, this meeting has been a total waste as far as I'm concerned."

"Max! We've been together for over twenty years! You can't throw it all away like this. Go out and have a fling, Fuck one of the coeds; God knows a couple of them are always drooling over you. I'll give you a free card, hell, I'll give you a dozen of them even though I'll hate every minute of it but we just can't throw it all away."

She was crying now and still didn't get it. I gave her a pass on Anson Street if she would have just come clean and ended it. Instead she cuckolded me another six months. That was the term I threw at her. She knew what it meant to the ego.

"Cuckolded me with your fucking stud. Fucked him right in my own bed, with the girls in the house. That was Dahlberg's Cool Mountain Breeze, wasn't it? I'm guessing you even used my pillow under your naked ass when he fucked you. Jesus H. Christ!"

She didn't deny any of it; just sat there crying and knowing the futility of it all.

"Tell me, Tammy. Why did you ever start it up in the first place with him?"

"You know the old saying, curiosity killed the cat. It was true what the others said about him; that he was hung like a horse and twice as talented. I thought I could get away with one and done and get rid of the itch. But he was like a drug, an opioid worse than crack."