Shattered Hero

Most important, however, I knew then and there that he was my man - and that no matter the extent of his injury, he would always be my man. I couldn't, no, wouldn't let go of him. Finally, as I started to pull myself together, he said he really had to go. We'd been talking and, for my part, crying for nearly an hour. His boss probably knew what was going on but could not be kept waiting all day. I kissed him hard on the lips.

"Tonight," I said, "is mine. Come to my room at eight. No matter what." He left for work.

I had a lot of planning to do. When I got back to my room, there were two phone messages. One was from Janice, asking if, perhaps, we could get together again this afternoon. The other was from Paul, saying that he and Sam did not have any scheduled tours today and he wondered if I'd like a private tour of the island. I deleted both without replying.

Today was going to be expensive. So what, I reasoned. I had earned a lot of money over the last year. I had arranged this vacation on miles and hotel points, spending only pennies for the week. This evening had to go well, and whatever I felt would help would be bought without regard to price.

First, I visited the hotel florist and ordered several arrangements for my room to be delivered that afternoon. I then went to the hotel chef and worked out a menu that I thought Brandon would like. Over the last three nights, he had shared his love of food and remarked on some of his favorite dishes. I didn't want anything too heavy to spoil later activities, so I arranged for broiled shrimp with mango salsa for an appetizer, a small chateaubriand for two with fresh asparagus and lemon, and a light fruit crisp for dessert. This was paired with a half bottle of the hotel's finest champagne and a classic burgundy red. The meal would be served at sunset on my balcony by a private waiter who would be invisible, discrete, and withdraw as soon as the last course was served.

Finally, I went into town for some shopping of my own. Tonight needed to be special. I wanted to look as much as possible like the goddess Brandon deserved. Again, I had paid attention to his little hints about what he found attractive in a woman, and to his remarks about what he liked about my clothes from the days before. I also added a little knowledge of men in general, and a little of my own imagination.

Starting with the finest lingerie store on the island, I picked out a flesh colored pushup bra that did wonders for my shape, and then a matching thong and garter belt to complete the set. Pure silk stockings completed the package.

At a boutique recommended by the saleswoman at the lingerie store, I found a translucent dress with a plunging neckline, nearly sheer but with fine floral prints over the essentials. Pulling out my lingerie purchases, I tried on the entire ensemble. To my mind's eye, at least, I looked incredible, exactly as I had hoped. I felt beautiful, shapely - just where a woman wanted to be shapely, and incredibly sexy.

The saleswoman was practically drooling on herself. She called over her associate, who was equally slack jawed. Aware of the effect I was having on them, I was positive they'd do me in an instant, but that's not what I was looking for today. With their help - very attentive help, I must say - I picked out a pair of shoes with four inch "fuck me" heels that completed the look I was going for.

Back at the hotel, I carefully unpacked my purchases and laid them out for the evening. I took a bath, followed by a visit to the hotel spa for a facial. Noting I was there, Dani popped in to see if I wanted "anything." I passed. As the final step, I had the stylist do my hair in the natural way I always wear it and help with my makeup, a minimalist application that only accentuated my features.

Returning to my room at seven, I approved that the table was set up on the balcony exactly as I had requested. The flowers had arrived and been placed appropriately. The champagne was chilling in the bucket and the red wine was decanted. All was as it should have been.

I changed into my lingerie. Checking myself in the mirror, I was impressed and happy with what I saw. Several days of sun had returned to color to my skin. My makeup was perfect. The lingerie not only felt incredibly sexy, but looked amazing - if I may say so myself. I will confess that I snapped a few "selfies." I stepped into my dress and shoes at 7:45. The waiter appeared at 7:55, as planned. His eyes bulged from his head when I opened the door - exactly the effect I was hoping for.

Now, I simply had to wait. My stomach was doing back flips. I couldn't remember when I had been so nervous. This was worse than waiting for the bar exam results.

Finally, after a seeming eternity but precisely at 8 PM, there was a knock at the door. I took a deep breadth and opened it, my arms, and my complete heart to the most amazing man I had ever met. I pulled him to me and kissed him softly, sensuously, and longingly on his lips.

"Welcome," I said, "to my room." Fortunately, he did not glance at the surroundings, but stared only at me.

Looking me over from head to toe and back again, he simply replied, "You look amazing. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." I'm sure I glowed. The waiter appeared from nowhere with two flutes of champagne.

"To us," I said as I raised my glass. "To you," Brandon replied. Only then did he look around. Admiring the flowers, he complemented my taste. Sitting across from him in the living area of my suite, I demurely crossed my legs, causing my dress to slide up the silk stockings. I found it sexy as hell, and from the look on Brandon's face I gathered he did as well.

I began by saying I was sorry for the scene this morning, and for "outing" him on his injury and behavior. He should have told me on his own time, I said, not through a disclosure forced upon him by a crazy woman who had assaulted him in the hotel lobby. I completed my little soliloquy by apologizing for detaining him and potentially embarrassing him in front of his boss.

Drawing a really deep breadth, "not that this excuses anything," I declared, "but I love you. I know its awfully soon, maybe too soon for most people, but some things I know with certainty - and this is one of them. You don't need to say anything to that. I was afraid there was something wrong between us, and I needed to know what that was. Now that I know, we can deal with it - and anything else you might not have told me yet. But without a doubt, I know I love you."

At this, there was a long pause - or perhaps it only seemed like a long pause to me. Brandon stood up, took my hands, and pulled me to him once again.

Kissing me softly, he whispered "I love you too, Debbi, now and forever." I melted into his arms.

We enjoyed another lovely dinner together, this time outdoors on my balcony. The sunset was spectacular. The food was amazing. Each dish brought forth delighted expressions of joy from Brandon, who was astounded that I had discerned his tastes so exactly. The wine complemented the food and left a warm glow within us. After the fruit crisp appeared magically before us without the slightest hint of another human presence, we were left alone with only our thoughts, my continuing plans, and a tension you could cut with a knife.

After a appropriate time for dinner to settle, I pulled Brandon to his feet and, grasping him tightly around the waist, I told him that I knew he was nervous and possibly a little scared of my reaction. I tried to assure him that, no matter what, I was his and would always stay by his side. He seemed to quiver a bit. I told him to use the bathroom first, if he wanted, and then to get completely naked and in bed. I wanted to freshen up a bit, and I would join him later.

He quivered more, but I pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. He emerged shortly, and I kissed him and pointed him toward the bed. He looked scared. As I closed the bathroom door, I hoped he would be there when I returned. I slipped my dress off - it had done its work for the evening. Time for the main show, I thought. I freshened up. Checked my teeth (yes, we do that) and my makeup. I couldn't delay any longer, not that I wanted to, but the butterflies were beating their wings pretty rapidly in my belly.

As I emerged, Brandon was to my relief there, in bed, with his cloths folded neatly on a nearby chair. His prosthesis, which I had not seen before, was on the floor within reach of the bed. I noted immediately from the shape under the sheet that one leg was, well, mostly missing.

Brandon, on the other hand, looked at me, standing there in my new lingerie. The look in his eyes could only be described as lust - nervous lust, but lust just the same. As I stood before him, looking into his eyes, I caught a glimpse of movement under the sheet as a small tent pole began to rise. I slipped into bed, under the sheet, beside him. We kissed tenderly, with a swell of passion only true lovers can know. We caressed each other. Brandon ran his hands over my bra, pausing to feel the weight and heft of the magnificent breasts it covered. I was growing mad with desire.

Before giving into my craving, however, I knew there was something more important that had to happen. Slowly, without I hoped his noticing, I drew back the sheet, uncovering both of us on the bed. Doing my best to distract him with kisses to his lips, eyelids, neck, and running my fingers through the sparse hair on his chest and over his seemingly sensitive nipples, I revealed us to each other. I rolled on top of Brandon, and then slid down his torso, beyond his legs.

"No," he almost shouted as he sat upright in bed. I stared him in the eyes, and then looked down at his injured leg. It was, indeed, deeply damaged. Forcing a bit of courage into my mind, however, I leaned down and kissed the worst of the scars. I kissed the stump, where the skin had been stitched back together and had healed unevenly. I kissed the red marks, rubbed raw where the prosthesis - good as it was - fit poorly. As I did this, I felt Brandon beginning to shake. His quivering grew into near convulsions. I quickly gathered him in my arms, holding his head against my chest. Tears fell onto my breasts, rolling into my cleavage.

"I love you" I repeated, and repeated, until he calmed and held me tightly. Kissing him on the lips, I repeated my new mantra, "I love you."

Releasing one another, I returned to his injured leg. He looked at me, silently pleading with me not to start again. Staring him down, I started at the bottom and drew a line of kisses along the largest, longest, and meanest scar. It ran nearly to the top of his remaining leg. The pain must once upon a time been horrifying. I aimed to replace it with something different.

As I neared the end of scar, I continued upwards. The emotional turmoil for Brandon must have been hard. His erection, once strong and obvious, had wilted. Reaching his penis, I took him into my mouth. Stroking him gently with my hand, and kissing him from head to base, I sucked him back to full life.

Once hard, I straddled Brandon, pulled my thong to one side, and lowered myself onto him. He was not the largest man I'd ever been with. Nor the widest. Nor the longest. He was really quite average as far as size goes. But as I slid further and further onto his pole, I was overwhelmed with the sensation that this, this man, was a perfect fit. He did not last long, perhaps not more than a minute or two. I did not expect him to. After years of withholding himself for fear that women would find him repugnant, he had seed aplenty to spill.

As he moaned and writhed under me, fully in the moment, I realized that sex with someone you truly love is so much more fulfilling than just sex, regardless of how big, or skilled, or varied your partner might be. As I rode him slowly, gently, I was more filled with him and by him than I ever was by any of my past lovers. In only seconds, I closed my eyes as a wonderful orgasm washed through me.

Day Five

We woke late the next morning. Looking at the clock, I shook Brandon awake and told him he needed to meet his boss in only a few minutes. He rolled over and took me into his arms, snuggling down into my cleavage and then kissing my nipples good morning.

"Don't have to," he said. "Boss knew what was going to happen last night. Gave me the day off today." With that, I got up, did the morning ritual, and returned to bed. Brandon did the same, asking if it was alright to share my toothbrush.

"Darling," I said, "that's the least intimate thing I plan to share with you today."

We made love all day, never getting dressed. Brandon had a lot of making up to do, and I was only a too willing partner. We began with the missionary position, in which his repeated thrusts brought on multiple, earth shattering orgasms. We continued with a pleasing 69, during which I was rewarded with my first mouthful of his cum; I savored it, and then made him watch as I swallowed it down in one big gulp.

My favorite was standing on the balcony, in full view of anyone who might be watching. I had my beach wrap on, but Brandon was wearing only his prosthetic. As I leaned on the railing, he entered me from behind at the perfect angle. His wonderful cock hit all the right places, including my g-spot.

We ordered room service. We ate raspberries off each other's nipples, and Brandon first inserted a strawberry into my always sopping vagina, and then sucked it out - and continued long after we'd run out of fruit. Without lube, I wouldn't let him take my ass, but I promised him he could have me there as soon as we were prepared. I swallowed what seemed like a gallon of cum over the course of the day; Brandon must have been saving it up for years! He even came between my tits, spraying his load all over my chest. That's always a big favorite of mine - and it turns out its one of his as well. It was the most wonderful day and sex of my life.

As night approached, I became melancholy. Tomorrow, Brandon needed to return to Chicago. His stay on the island was over. Having found my shattered hero, I could not bear to think of parting. Yet, he had to go.

Forever After

Morning arrived. The birds chirped their songs - and I hated them for it. I took a taxi to the airport with Brandon and his boss, not wanting to separate one moment sooner than necessary. At the security gate, we clung to each other like helpless idiots in love. When we finally could hold out no longer, we parted. Brandon walked away, looking back and waving about every five feet. His slight limp made him easy to follow in the crowd.

I returned to the hotel where I had another two nights reserved, but my vacation was over. I called the airline and luckily got onto an earlier flight. Arriving home late that evening, my apartment seemed lonelier than ever. It was empty, despite the moving boxes still piled in every room.

The next morning I went to work early.

"What are you doing here," the managing partner asked as I barged into his office without an appointment. "Aren't you supposed to be on vacation?" I explained that I wanted to transfer to the Chicago office, effective immediately.

"What did you do, meet some guy" he sneered? Sexist pig, I thought, as if that might be the only reason a woman would request a transfer. But, of course, he was right in this case.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," I replied as politely as I could.

He finally looked up at me. "Are you sure?"

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life, sir," I responded.

"OK" was all he said. Five days later my boxes were on a truck, I was on a plane to Chicago, and Brandon was waiting to take me home. I could not wait to hold him again, to fuck him silly, and to fulfill my promise to him - all of my promises to him.