Everest

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This is all she left behind.
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EVEREST
SCARAMOUCHE 123

The two characters in this story are old enough to shoot people in foreign countries

This is all she left behind

Dearest,

I cannot tell you anything that will act as a balm on this gaping wound I am causing you. I can only tell you how much your love has meant to me these past two years. I know you'll understand eventually. But for now, I owe you this much.

When you first knocked on my door I don't know if you realized it, but you saved my life. I know it was a mistake that brought you to me, that the realtor should have given you better directions, but I'm glad she didn't. If she had, I never would have had the opportunity to experience the many joys knowing you brought to me each and every day since I opened that door.

Your boots, that wide wale green shirt with the leather collar, the way your big hands were stuffed into your jeans, even the way you hung your sun glasses in the neck of your shirt, that first time I saw you, still brings a smile to my face. You looked like a middle-aged man who never grew out of his high school years.

Your shy introduction, the way you were hesitant to extend your hand for me to shake when you said your name, the way you said "well don't that beat all" when you realized you were at the wrong address, all those things from the first five minutes you came into my life, will be my fondest memory of you besides your outrageous sense of humor and your magnificent cock. For the life of me, I don't know whether I liked you cock or your outrageous way of looking at things more. Oh well, I was the lucky one. I got both. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

As I said, you saved my life.

I've suffered depression since I lost my baby during her birth those five long years ago. Her father couldn't take it and split. Well you know that part of the story, don't you? What you don't know is that I was close, so very close to ending it all. I was buried under an avalanche of despair. It's why I refused your first two requests to have coffee.

But, in a good way, you wore me down. Each time you showed up at my door, with some lame excuse or other, I began to thaw. It's not that I was no longer depressed; it's more that your light-hearted nature seemed to help even things out. I'd even go so far to say, I was curious to see if there was any substance behind your boyish charms and if nothing else, that was enough to keep me going.

I remember that first coffee-date, when you asked me my likes and dislikes, my upbringing, my travels, and then flat out asked if I liked being on my knees servicing a man. The way I spit my coffee on the shoes of the waitress, and laughed so hard we had to leave, I remember that like it was yesterday. But you were serious.

I'd never given it much thought before that. Blowing a guy was just something I did occasionally for any of a dozen reasons, but again, I never thought about liking the act of being on my knees. But oddly, the first time I sucked you off, I liked it, I liked it a lot.

I also remember our first real date, the realization that I immediately liked the way you like music. I've never met anyone before who can go to an opera, a rock concert, or a child's piano recital and love it as if it's the most important thing in the world, like it's the last bite of food you'll ever have before you die. Your special love of music has given me hours of joy when you're out doing whatever it is you do to earn money.

When I used to wake up, before we moved in together, I never turned on a radio or television. I'd make coffee, sit at my favorite window and watch the birds go about their morning business. But you! You turn on music as soon as you get up. In the beginning I would think "what's up with that?" But then I got it.

Music is your drug of choice isn't it? Well maybe music will help you heal and over time, maybe the music we discovered together will be part of a pleasant memory. I hope so.

As I said at the beginning of this letter, I don't know which is more important to me, your outrageous view of the world, or your magnificent cock. But I'd like to tell you how both helped get me from where I was to where I'm going now.

Cock is an interesting subject from my perspective, so I'll start there.

I've only know two men before you; my high-school sweetheart and the bastard who left me when our child died.

My high-school sweetheart was everything I'd hoped for in a first romance, a romance that would last forever. But, as is often the case with young romance, it was only good until it wasn't.

We, of course, were inseparable. We went to all the latest movies, tried all the sexual positions we'd see on porn sites, expanded our circle of friends to include each others, and even went so far as to talk about the future. But it was the future that tore us apart. I wanted our future to be one way, and he wanted to be off to see the world, while I, the dutifully wife-to-be, waited at home. Well that wasn't going to happen and the first time he took off; I took off in the opposite direction.

Dick number two, as I called him (when I was yelling at him in my mind before I met you), was to be it. When I opened my womb to receive his seed, I was thinking that the universe knew what it was doing when it put the seed in the man and the egg in the woman. Who'd a thunk such a simple thing as putting a cylindrical device into a cylindrical opening to expel fluid from the body of one organism into the body of another, a simple but simply marvelous engineering feat to be sure, would bring such pleasure, would seem so divine? Oh those cylinders you guys carry around, be they small, medium, or large, sure are marvels of the bio-engineering world. And you're so proud of them, like it was all your doing and not some accident of genetics. But alas, as to dick number two, he was a bigger dick than his dick was big.

Which brings me to dick number three; your dick.

I've had it inside me so many times by now; I feel I'm an expert in its design and competencies. So let me recount for you some of my favorite memories with dick number three.

I was surprised that we had intercourse those half-dozen times before you pushed me to my knees and told me with the simple nod of your head that it was time to service you as you had so eloquently put it that day at coffee. Oddly, though the intercourses were more than I'd ever imagined, dare I say spectacular even, I was surprised at how wet I got when you pushed me down before you. Though I'd seen your cock several times before, being up close changed everything.

I was surprised at how angry it looked. I suppose that's a function of having built up pressure that needs release. I was also surprised at how hard it was; rock hard in my hand and both hard and smooth in my mouth. Though I must admit I was a bit frightened when you told me you were going to fuck my face, I almost pissed myself with excitement.

I don't know if you were feeling a bit master like, or whether you were submitting to my ministrations, I don't know which of us was passive and which of us was the aggressor, but I do know, when you put your hands on either side of my head, I knew, or at least I felt, it was I who was in control. That's when I really began to enjoy the gagging, and the drool, and the occasional loss of breath. Through submission, I had gained the upper hand and there was nothing you could do about it; you had to finish what you started.

When you came without giving me warning, I smiled inside, thinking what a cheeky bastard you were, but I knew it was my responsibility to make a clean job of it. God, you come a lot.

The first pulses of cum caught me by surprise, but as they lessened in volume and intensity, I regained control and, once I was able to start swallowing, I wanted more. It's why I kept going until you shot-off a second time.

From that day until this past weekend, I bet I've swallowed a half gallon of your stuff, your gift as you have so generously labeled it. But don't think I'm complaining, if I hadn't wanted it, I would have declined your invitation to have me on my knees. Oddly though, even though I know people view fellatio from various perspectives, I believe the reason I loved it so much is because you loved it so much.

In a way, I felt like a parent whose child has brought her a shell to listen to for the sounds of the sea. Watching the child's enthusiasm for the shell and the sound it makes when held up to the ear, is to my way of thinking, one of the greatest joys a parent can experience. That's it. I'm the parent and you're the child, and the pleasure you get from having your cock in my mouth is beautiful, infantile of course, but beautiful none-the-less. As I said before, "I love it."

A much derided psychological theory says, and I paraphrase, "First we suck, then we shit, then we fuck." I wonder how this plays out against the new, western sociological view of oral sex, how it is now a separate behavior that does not involve life giving or life making behaviors. Other than recreative or bonding behaviors between two or more individuals, it really serves no biological purpose. Wow! I do, go on don't I? I guess that's because I went to sleep last night with a bellyful of your come and started this day with another generous helping of your "gift".

So, back to the reason for this letter, and to subject number two; your outrageous outlook and behavioral quirks. Let's start with this weekend.

I know you're strong, really strong, but you never really walk around showing off your muscles. However, from time to time your antics remind me just how very strong you are without really realizing it at the time your strength is in play.

When you came into the bathroom yesterday and stood behind me watching me use a towel to squeeze the water from my hair I wondered what you were up to. But when you took the towel from me and placed my hands on the sink, I figured you were going to fuck me ragged (it was the gleam in your eye), and I'd need to hop right back in the shower and rinse off. Boy was I surprised.

When you lifted me up so my butt was in your face and you stuck your tongue in my anus, I had such mixed feelings, I was really disoriented.

First, I was off balance. Also, I was almost upside down, helping you support my weight with just my hands on the sink. But lastly, you licking my ass over and over really did excite me. When you started rubbing your chin against my cunt, that's when I knew my pending orgasm was going to be intense, and it was just that; intense.

Wait. Why am I still talking about sexual encounters? I guess it's because whether in a loving embrace, or when you're using me to act out one of your amazing fantasies, so much of my life these past two years has been about sex and its therapeutic nature. But let me tell you something about yourself that you may not be aware of; you're afraid.

That's right. You're afraid. You're afraid to be boring. You're afraid to do the same things day after day.

You're afraid your time on earth will not be enough to experience the many things and places you've determined are worth experiencing. It's why your outrageous behavioral quirks add fuel to the fire of your life. It's what keeps you interested and, for anyone else, or I should say for me, it's what kept you interesting.

I don't mean you're a coward: far from it. You're the bravest man I've ever known. No, you're the bravest man or woman I've ever known. But I don't think you have a clue how brave your outlook is and how hard it must be to be...you.

Who else thinks the way you do? Nobody.

Who finds ties between such disparate ideas, things that are seemingly unrelated, like you do? For goodness sake, who else has ever seen the jealous way men behave toward a giant sequoia tree, standing patiently through millennia, mocking man's need to find a permanent home? You, that's who as no one else I know sees so many connections between the various academic disciplines and the tentacles each have embracing one or another or, in some cases, all of the others. But you see it so readily.

The way you asked the haughty lady we met at that government function if "she'd had a good shit that morning (?)" makes it impossible to predict what's going to come jumping from your tongue at any given moment. You're impossible to tame but you shouldn't be, and if I were to stay around, I'd never, I mean absolutely never ever try to change you. You are a delicious man and I'm honored to have known you.

When I was young, before my parents died, we watched a program about four men who attempted an ascent of Mount Everest. At camp 4 as I recall, just before the final assault, two of the men turned back because of ill health,. The remaining two decided to make the ascent before a predicted storm arrived.

Near the summit, it became evident the storm would arrive faster than predicted which made the final hundred feet much more treacherous. The two men conferred and came to a decision.

One turned back. The other continued to the summit, which he made just as the storm arrived. He never came down.

I could see the tears in my parent's eyes. I too felt choked, but when we switched off the program and talked, we came to the conclusion, that if one has a choice to reach the pinnacle of their existence, to achieve their life-long goal, Everest as it were, at the risk of losing one's life, then one must choose the summit. And if one chooses the summit and it costs their life, then so be it.

We felt it was much better to die at the very moment we achieve that last step, then to turn back, or worse, to achieve the summit and to come back to what? We all agreed, that after scaling Everest successfully, the rest of our lives would be sort of "less than" from that point on.

That's the way I'm feeling now as I'm writing these last few words. These past two years have been my trek up the mountain. I came from depression, to a controlled state of elation. I'm healthy and I've learned what love and admiration are all about. I've learned that there are different ways to view the same thing. I've learned that music and sex are the two greatest endeavors human beings can engage in.

I've learned that experience repeated creates an averaging of sorts, a result that lessens the greater of the times. I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want to have anyone think the way I do, but it is the way I feel.

This past weekend was my summit. There was not one wasted moment. Everything, and I mean everything, was perfect. I have scaled Everest. I'm sorry, but I can't come down from the mountain.

When you find me, you'll find this letter clutched to my bosom. After you've turned off the car's engine and opened the garage so you can breathe, do whatever you need to do.

You'll see I've put the CD player on random but I've loaded it with my favorites. They say I'll dream before the final darkness, so I want background music of my choosing to accompany my dreams. You'll also find I've tidied up the house. I didn't want to leave more of a mess than I needed to.

Oh. One last thing. Last night I stayed up late watching you sleep. You're beautiful and you'll be okay.

So this is it my sweet, my farewell. Know that as I close my eyes for the last time I will have you in my dreams. May the gods bless you and keep you safe for the rest of your life.

Love and such,

C.

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5 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 7 years ago
False conclusion.

The logic only comes to a very superficial conclusion that is sketchy enough to hang a fairly well put together story on. Liked the writing but not its shaky foundation.

tazz317tazz317about 10 years ago
WHAT WOULD POSSESS A WOMAN

who has Everest in her domain decide to end it all, TK U MLJ LV NV

LittleCarolLittleCarolalmost 12 years ago
Liked it

I liked it a lot. I didn't think it was quite "holy shit" at the end, but it was a surprise. Allow me to really pick, because the piece is good enough to bother with the details. Blowing was "just something I did occasionally for any of a dozen reasons" doesn't sound very occasional. "I've only know two men" has a mistake, "known". "But, as is often the case with young romance" - how would she know, she only knew two men? "We, of course, were inseparable." refers to the HS sweetheart, but that's confusing, don't break that paragraph. "...include each others", should be "other's". "...opened my womb", hmm, anatomically inaccurate. "...accident of genetics", but it's not an accident, it's a "marvel" as you yourself wrote. The "government function" sentence is puntuated incorrectly, either quote what he said or don't use quotes.

njlaurennjlaurenalmost 12 years ago
Holy Shit

I didn't expect that ending....though with her history of depression it isn't surprising, either. The fact that she thought she had achieved Everest is symptomatic of that, someone who is depressive who sees the heights assumes that it could never be repeated, that all is down from there (when in reality it isn't).

The sad part is that the guy will probably feel guilt, he will feel somehow that his view of life made her feel and act the way she did, it will be a lot more then losing her.

To the author, fantastically written, one of the best pieces of writing I have seen on here, if sad.

SW_MO_HermitSW_MO_Hermitalmost 12 years ago
JEEEEZUS

How sad. I was expecting her to just leave him for greener pastures because she was ready to move on in this life. Even knowing how depression works I didn't see the suicide coming. I can feel deeply for the man she left behind and hope he is truly strong. Too bad there is no way for her to have a "do over". Except for the depression she sure seemed like a "keeper".

Well written. Keep it up.

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