The Lighthouse

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dr_mabeuse
dr_mabeuse
3,768 Followers

"Is it safe?" he asked. "This light was put up in the teens, I think."

"Oh, yes. They had to reinforce everything when they removed the lamp back in the '80's, and we had it inspected when we bought it. Come on. Don't you want to see?"

There was a parapet with an iron rail, and from here they could see several miles down the coast and out to sea. It was just evening, and the sky in the east was velvet blue and thick with stars. The breeze was off the land, cool, yet with the scent of earth and pine. For a while they watched the strobe at Pennicot Point flashing in groups of three, its assigned signal. Julia felt like she was bursting to tell him and ask him things, but now that they were out here in the breeze and high air, she found she had nothing to say. This view always stirred her in ways she couldn't describe, and for a long moment they just stood there together drinking it in. She was aware that he was watching her, staring at her face as her hair blew in the wind.

"So this is where the light made the fish chase it under the water?" she asked.

"That's what they say. Lovely image, isn't it? These poor fish chasing something they can never have?"

"Why are they attracted to the light?" she asked.

"Why?" He laughed. "I have no idea. Here—" He led her around the light and out of the wind. "This is what the sailors call the lee side, the sheltered side."

She smiled, feeling foolish. Not enough sense to come in out of the wind.

From here they could just see the long swell of the dark sea, the breakers rearing up and dissolving into foam on the rocks along the shore.

"I saw a tree in the woods yesterday," she said awkwardly. "It was covered in white blossoms. Absolutely covered. I've never seen anything so beautiful."

"A flowering crab," he said. "Yes."

She could have said more but she didn't have to. She realized he'd seen it too—maybe not that very tree, and maybe not this year, but she knew he'd seen it and he understood and that her feelings in the woods hadn't be mistaken.

He laughed. "You're like me. You look around you and see beauty, and you don;t know what to do with it. You want to suck it up, don't you? Absorb it and fuse with it and take it inside. But you can't, can you? None of us can. All we can do is yearn for it. And so we yearn for it, don't we Julia? We just ache and yearn."

His words traled off, seemingly blown away by the breeze. Julia pulled her hair back from her face.

"Patrick, I love my husband. I really do. I don't know what's happening to me."

She spoke as if in a trance, as if he weren't there, although she knew he was. She was aware of his eyes on her face, his expression unchanged.

"I know you love him, Julia. Why wouldn't you?"

"But I can't talk to him anymore. He seems to think I've gone a little crazy, and sometimes I wonder whether he might not be right. That tree in the woods... It's like there's something I want, something I need. To just pull all of this inside me and keep it there. To be it." She laughed at her own words. "I just feel like I'm so filled with questions."

"There are some questions that don't have answers," he said. "Not in words. They're feelings, really, aren't they? Things we can't say."

"Yes. It's like that. But what do you do about them?"

He laughed gently. "Damned if I know. You meet feelings with feelings. With sensation. The fish know what to do. They swim. For us it's more complicated."

She turned to him and waited.

She wanted it so much. Here in this high and windy place suspended between sea and sky and earth, she wanted him to kiss her and answer her questions, but Patrick kept his eyes out to sea, leaning on his forearms.

"The moon," he said, gesturing to the horizon. "She sees everything."

*****

Things did not get better and things did not change. If anything, they got worse, and Julia found herself beset by tears or feelings of unexpected elation at the strangest times. At night, when he wasn't too tired, Seth made love to her and she lay there looking over his shoulder at the sky. She closed her eyes and saw the crab apple in the woods or Patrick standing with his arms spread expansively above the gushing river of fish, and she was ashamed.

She went into town and didn't know whether to see him or not, though she almost always did. There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted him now and that he wanted her, but she was tormented by her own lack of guilt. They had coffee, or he took her down by the docks where he knew all of the fishermen, but he didn't invite her to his place and of course she wouldn't suggest it herself.

On the way back from town she often stopped by the crab apple in the woods, and approached it as if it were some oracle, something much wiser than she. She was dismayed one day to see that the blossoms were dropping, the white petals falling with heart-breaking sadness into the grass and mud at its feet. The sight upset her so much that she rushed home with tears in her eyes, frantic for something to do. She changed her clothes, grabbed some gardening things from the shed, and busied herself with planting bulbs outside the cottages.

It was a cool day and misty, and the mist soon grew to a fog as the sun lost its way and faded from sight. It was so foggy she couldn't see the ocean or the cottages across the way and the foghorn from Pennicot Point was like the moaning of a blind man. She worked in the earth as if in a cemetery, in the piles of loam and leaf mold they'd had delivered, working it in deep to the stingy soil, then got down on her knees and dug in the rich, friable earth with her bare hands, seized by something hot and feverish inside.

It was some combination of sense and image that did it. The feel of her hands thrust deep into the earth, the sound of a screen door slamming behind some departing guests, and the image of the shedding crab apple that did it. The fog was wet and cold—it chilled the back of her neck

Julia stood up and brushed off her hands, threw her tools and bulbs into her basket and went into the house.

She showered and washed and dressed. She put on a skirt and brushed out her hair and did her face. She got in the car and drove off, leaving Seth deep in conference with the cook, his new ally and protégé. When she passed the spot on the highway near the tree, she tightened her grip on the wheel and kept on going.

The town seemed deserted, immobilized in fog. The streetlights were on and cast fuzzy spots of light in the gray cloud, and the wall of the cannery dripped with quiet moisture. Her footsteps on the cobbles barely reached her ears. The downstairs door was open, and she walked up the stairs as the foghorn sounded. There were wisps of fog even in the stairway going up to his apartment.

There was no doubt that he'd be there. He had to be there. She tried the front door and it opened just as she knew it would, and she walked in to find him standing right there in the living room fresh from his shower with a towel in his hand, as if he'd been waiting for her. He looked up when she came in and she dropped her bag and he dropped his towel and then without a word they were in each other's arms, without a question or curious look, without a trace of doubt.

She bore him down. She bore him back on the strength of her own need, pushing him back onto the leather sofa and climbing on top of him, her mouth an open wound looking for healing. His hands were in her hair and then on her shirt and he pushed it up over her bare breasts and took them in his hands. She wanted to be squeezed, crushed, pierced and destroyed, and that's just what he gave her, grabbing her ass beneath her skirt and standing up, turning them both around and falling back onto the sofa so that he ended up already between her thighs.

She couldn't stop kissing him, sucking at his mouth and biting him as she felt his hands fumbling with the fly of his trousers. She raised her knees high for him and then felt his hand at her panties, gathering the fabric over her crotch and pulling it to the side.

"Hurry!" she breathed. "Hurry!"

She should have been ashamed. She should have been contrite. She should have thought of Seth, but all she could do was feel the hard, blunt dome of his cock press against her open flesh and push her resistance aside as he slid into that wet cavern. She reeled as she felt his body entering hers, and then he thrust deep and hard, pulled back, and did it again, like a fisherman setting a hook

"Oh, God!" she cried, captured and taken.

Patrick rested, his cock throbbing inside her, his forehead pressed against hers as he tried to calm his breathing. Julia felt hooked—gaffed—held on the spear of his cock as the world stood still. Her dress was pulled up around her waist and held crushed in her fist to keep it out of the way. Her knees were up against her breasts as she leaned half-sitting on the sofa and she waited to see what he would do with her, how he would fuck her. It could only be one way. There was only one way that would satisfy her, and Patrick seemed to know it. Of course he knew it.

He planted his feet on the floor and spread them as far as his pants around his ankles would allow. He put one hand on her ass and pulled her to the edge of the sofa and rested his other against the wall, then started to fuck her with long bestial plunges, swinging his hips from his waist and stabbing her deep with each thrust. Julia cried out. It was just what she wanted, to be fucked like an animal, and Patrick's hips moved with the shuddering urgency of an ape in the zoo, savage and primeval and obscenely sexual. This wasn't love and this wasn't caring. This was the primitive pulsing of life, crude and spasmodic and deliciously violent, and Julia threw her head back against the sofa in rapture, her tits, her pussy, her whole body reaching for his masculine roughness.

Patrick's feet got a better purchase on the floor and he leaned his knees against the sofa. He put both hands on her ass and held her tight as he thrust into her with brutal intensity. Julia put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled his face down so she could whisper in his ear, her breathless words punctuated by animal grunts as his loins slammed into hers. "—Ugh!— Fuck me! Fuck me! Hard, Patrick! —Unh!— Give it to me! —Nngh!— Hard, Patrick! Hard! Ugh! Unh! Yes! Yes!!"

In the silence of the apartment with the fog dripping from the windows she gave voice to her feelings, yelling and gasping as he plunged into her again and again. She was not a vocal lover but now she wanted to be loud, crying out as if to tell the world what he was doing to her—that like the flowering crab and the surf on the rocks she was here too and had her part to play, taking his big prick into the squelching wetness of her cunt. She kissed him and tried to look into his eyes to see if he understood as his cock worked at her, but his expression was more than she could stand—the savage lust, the unredeemed obscenity of his desire. It thrilled her as his hips moved with animal brutality, making the entire sofa bang against the wall as if he would smash it to pieces in his need to have her.

Julia clung to his neck, her knees up and her feet twitching against his hips with each jarring thrust. All the beauty and anguish of the past weeks and months gathered inside her into one huge ball, one suffocating bubble of feeling that rose slowly to the surface as he pumped inexorably in and out of her, his tempo increasing with his rising urgency till he was buffeting her like a rag doll. His thrusts became more urgent, his fingers clawed more desperately at her ass. The muscles twitched in his set jaw and she felt the dome of his shoulder like rock beneath her hand.

"Oh God!" he growled suddenly. "Are you safe, Julia? Are you safe!"

"Fuck! Yes! Yes! Come inside me! Inside me, Patrick! All of it! Every fucking drop!"

And then he was there, throwing his head back and crying out. Julia's eyes sought his face, drinking in his look of ecstasy and letting it carry her up into a place she'd never known, a rapturous place of total sexual fulfillment, primitive and biological, thirsting for his semen. She wanted to swoon as she felt him quiver and start to pulse blindly within her and she let go of that bubble and felt it explode through her, just as she felt the rich spill of his essence inside her like a flood of light and life, a gush of male fecundity that spread through her like a river of stars and took her breath away.

She arched up from the sofa, giving in to her body's demands and pulsed on his spurting rod, holding him hard and deep, answering his shattering ejaculations with clenching spasms of her own. There was a feeling of the fish finding the light at last, of moonlight shattered on the heaving face of the sea—and a world afire with untold ecstasy.

*****

The fog pressed close against the windows, sealing them in. Patrick was leaning back against the wall and Julia's head was against his chest, the sheet drawn up under her arms. She lay there staring into space, as if she could see the very air. She'd been trying to explain to Patrick her feelings about Seth but had given up, realizing that at the moment she didn't have any. She felt no more guilt for what had happened with Patrick than she would have for getting caught in a rainstorm. It hadn't been betrayal—it had been a force of nature.

"You don't have to explain," he said. "If you want to talk about it, I'll be glad to hear it, but you really don't have to."

The foghorn mourned in the background, and Julia let the back of her fingers slide across the soft hair on his chest. "No," she said. "I really don't want to either. But then, what am I doing here? What are we doing?"

He shifted around, turning her over so that she was on her back and sliding her down so that he was leaning over her on his elbow. In the silence of the fog-shrouded world, the sound of their movements in bed seemed loud.

"Fucking," he said, tugging at the sheet that covered her breasts. "Fucking like animals. Glorious, isn't it?"

'Patrick!" she admonished. His language offended and excited her, and she tried to hold the sheet over her but he was too strong, and he pulled it down so that her breasts were exposed. She covered herself with her arms but he grabbed her wrist and pulled it away and fastened his lips on her nipple.

"Oh God!" she moaned, writhing beneath him. "Patrick, stop!"

"Fucking," he said again, his tongue circling her areola. "Screwing. Coming all over each other and scratching and biting—mindless, primitive..."

He bared his teeth and took her nipple between them, pulled her breast up like a dog with a bone, then let it slip slowly from his teeth. Despite herself Julia shuddered and felt her skin prickle with goose bumps. This man had some power over her. He reached inside her to the dark places and filled them with light.

"Don't joke, Patrick. This is serious."

"I know it's serious. Why can't sex be serious? It's serious as hell. That's what we're for, isn't it? Fucking, reproducing, multiplying."

Julia got her arm free and covered her turgid nipple with her hand. "There's more to it than that. It's not that easy."

"I never said it was easy. It's not easy. But this is who we are. I learned that in biology and I learned it when I got sick. We're sperm and eggs with brains, not the other way around, not brains with gonads. Our minds and our emotions and imaginations, they're all just our gonads' way of getting us around and letting us do what we have to do. Our deepest feelings and connection to the world are sexual, don't you know that? That's how it is for me, and you're the same way. It's all sexual, Julia. Everything."

His talk irritated her and she made a motion to get up, but Patrick was lying on her and she couldn't budge him, and really she didn't want him to let her up.

"Very romantic," she said. "You don't know much about loving a woman, do you?"

"No," He moved her arm again, holding on to her wrist as he lowered his head and returned to her nipple, which stood up for his mouth with embarrassing eagerness. "No. I only know about fucking. About the dirtiest, filthiest, greediest, most abject kind of fucking."

He held her wrist down and found her mouth and she couldn't deny him. His words thrilled her almost as much as his strength as he kissed her and held her down and their thighs worked slowly in the sheets to press against one another.

"Oh God!" she gasped, breaking the kiss and pressing her hips against his leg. "What are you doing to me?"

He let go of her wrist and grasped it with the hand that was behind her head. Her other arm was trapped beneath him, leaving her defenseless, and Patrick ripped the sheets from her body so that she was naked on the bed. He kissed her again and caressed her breasts, then his hand slid slowly down the center of her body, between her breasts, over her sternum and belly, down over her navel, heading for her sex. Julia's hips jerked up in reflex as if to capture him. She felt him smile as he kissed her and she might have smiled back if she weren't so overcome with pure erotic heat. The way he held her and used her made her faint with lust. Her need was so strong and so obvious there was nothing she could do to hide it.

"Ohhh," she moaned. "Oh, yes!"

His finger slipped over the burgeoning bud of her clit and parted her lips. He played with her like she was a toy, dipping into her sodden sex and arousing her so that she dug her teeth into his lip and bit down in warning, telling him that if he kept it up, he'd have to pay the consequences. He was entirely willing, and she was helpless to resist him.

"It's good, isn't it?" he whispered. "Just to be like this? No shame, no reservations."

His finger pumped slowly in and out of her and she heard the shameful sound of her own sticky wetness.

"I can feel my come in you," he said. "I love it. Like I own you. Like you're mine."

He pushed her thighs apart and she let him, looked down at her own naked body as open and exposed as a whore's. Against her will she found herself planting her feet on the mattress and lifting her cunt up onto his violating finger with the slow, regular undulations of the sea, and the sight of her own lewdness made her groan aloud.

"It's better when it's dirty, isn't it?" he said. "More honest, more real. More what we want. Fuck me Julia. Fuck me just like you're doing."

"Oh God!" she hid her face against his chest in shame, but she couldn't stop. Never in her life had she been so consumed with such intense sexual fever.

Patrick got up. He knelt on the bed and pulled her up as well, turned her around and arranged her so that she was on her knees, facing away from him. Julia was no prude, but she'd never liked the idea of being taken from behind like a dog. It was too lewd and too disrespectful, and even as he arranged her she felt ashamed and humiliated and wildly excited. She wanted him to do things to her that she couldn't even imagine. She wanted nothing between them, not even her sense of self-respect.

Patrick pushed her legs apart to expose her sex and Julia felt herself blush, yet swell with a fierce and unfamiliar pride. All her life she'd been ashamed or showing herself, but with him it was different, and his excitement kindled hers as if it were her own. She reached behind her neck and pulled her long hair over the opposite shoulder so she could look back and see his face as he stared at her privates, so obscenely revealed. There was nothing in his look to make her feel ashamed—just raw lust and undisguised desire, feelings so pure and basic that there was no shame in them. There was no part of her he didn't want, no view of her that didn't arouse.

Her head jerked up and her eyes opened wide as he entered her, and he groaned with relief like a man plunging his burning hand into a pitcher of water. He was even harder than before and he felt like a bar of steel in her melting pussy as he pushed hard into her. Julia held herself up on her hands and closed her eyes in selfish pleasure as she felt his strong hands encircle her hips and pull her back, impaling her on his thick cock. He held her like that, then began to work her back and forth, up and back, rocking her on her knees and using her like a toy, and Julia hummed in her throat, encouraging him, content to be his ship of pleasure.

dr_mabeuse
dr_mabeuse
3,768 Followers