For a Recovering Friend

Shortly after the first of the year, a good friend had a much-needed surgery. After witnessing my mother's recovery following a similar surgery over a decade ago, I realized that my friend would be feeling rather unlike herself for a while afterward, so I wrote this tale for her to at least bring a smile to her face following the removal of internal organs. It is with her permission that I am posting it here for everyone to read. I have removed those references which might possibly identify her.

*****

Dear ------------------,

You may have just had surgery, but that does not mean that you cannot have some fun, even if just in your mind. So yes, here is a short tale written specifically for you ;-)

Hopefully, you are resting comfortably. Likely, you are trying to alleviate the boredom typically inherent with post-surgery recovery.

Close your eyes, inhale, exhale, and let your mind drift. Especially given the winter weather of ------------------, imagine that you are instead meandering along a sandy tropical beach toward the sunset, your sandals in your hands as the warm tide repeatedly washes across your feet and ankles. It is a private beach: just you and Mother Nature communing together as you listen to the soft, reverent whispers brushing past your ears and jostling your lengthy strands.

From the edge of your peripheral vision, an unexpected movement draws your attention out across the waters of the wavy sea. Seeing nothing, your gaze starts to shift back toward the colorful sunset when that same movement at the edge of your vision attracts your eyes once more. Stopping and straining, you can only discern a humanoid figure in the distance before that person is submerged by the waves once again, but seconds later, it becomes clear that the person is swimming toward the beach, the telltale movement of the arms and the head bobbing out of the water only long enough to breathe making it clear that it is indeed a person coming toward the beach, toward your private tropical hideaway.

Yet, curiosity seizes your mind. After all, the nearest island is over ten kilometers away and there are no boats in view, so how could a person have the endurance to swim such a long distance simply to see you? Absently, your hand opens, allowing your sandals to fall to the sand, only to be overcome by the waves when they next break across your feet and ankles. Somehow, you feel drawn toward this brave/crazy person swimming toward you, and you step deeper into the warm sea. Before you realize it, the water comes up to your waist as, despite the very gentle slope of the island as it slips into the sea, you have meandered a good distance into the water, straining to better glimpse this daredevil.

It seems to take forever for the person to approach close enough for you to discern anything about the unusual swimmer, but, at last, you can distinguish some details. The swimmer is indeed a guy, with coppery hair so short that it is almost lost atop his sun-tanned head. His muscled arms each appear to have an encircling tattoo near the shoulder.

You step forward again, and again, and again. Soon, only the fact that your chest is completely submerged prevents anyone from seeing how your nipples tent the thin fabric of your swimsuit. There is something inexplicably arousing about this strange swimmer, yet your curiosity is so great that you barely notice the twin pebbles adorning your chest or the increasing warmth within your belly, and you definitely do not notice the wind-blown strands of your own hair until several of them catch upon your lips.

Then the mysterious swimmer appears to dive suddenly, and several minutes later has still not surfaced.

You stand there in shock, in wonder, in awe, in panic. There have never been sightings of sharks in the area, so he could not have been suddenly attacked. The only sea creatures in this region are small fish in a myriad of colors, and even an entire school of the fish would not be able to attack the human and drag him underwater.

Just as you are about to dive into the water and try to effect a rescue, he surfaces almost directly in front of you, taking you by such surprise that you jump backward with a soprano's screech, nearly losing your balance and submerging yourself needlessly. But before you can react, you feel yourself being lifted by his strong arms.

His touch is almost magical, casting away all fear, all apprehension... The only thoughts in your mind are feelings of wonderment and desire. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your body pressed to his muscled chest, you look up into his stormy eyes, noting how one eye is focused upon the island itself and one eye moves independently to visually consume you.

Ultimately, you are carried across the wide beach to the grass. The final rays of daylight illuminate the sky to the west, with the moon rising out of the eastern waters and casting its silvery-white glow across the island. The strange swimmer kneels and deposits you gently upon the perfectly-manicured grass, gazing down upon you with an obvious desire, as if he had somehow been summoned to you purely by your existence.

As he kneels at your side, you finally are able to notice two distinguishing things about him. The first is that his chest bears numerous scars, the multiple long slashes crisscrossing his chest as if he had been severely and repeatedly cut years earlier. You reach up to touch one of the lengthy scars, tracing it lightly with a fingernail, concern entering your mind even though something about the scars seems to draw you ever closer to him.

The second is that he is completely nude; additionally, his engorged phallus is the supreme evidence that the desire in his stormy eyes is indeed real. The realism of the moment is further heightened as your hand moves from his sliced chest downward, ultimately closing around the fleshy sword. As you touch him intimately, he gasps softly, closing his eyes to better focus on the sensation.

You watch his face, watching the expressions of delight as you gently stroke the hardened anatomy. He leaks onto your hand, providing some lubrication for your actions to massage into his manhood. He soon opens his eyes and looks upon you with an intensity which underlines his need, a need which you instinctively know will need to be sated rather soon.

He reaches toward you and gently lowers the neckline of your swimsuit, freeing first one and then both breasts, exposing them to his desirous gaze. As he licks his lips, you can almost see the many thoughts passing through his mind, and all of them would delight you in various ways.

The mysterious swimmer moves to straddle your waist, always allowing your hand to continue slowly masturbating him. He reaches forward and places a hand upon each hard-tipped breast, gently squeezing and caressing your feminine swells with desire and respect and awe. His actions cause his palms to continually move across your nipples, sending innumerable tiny sparks of passion emanating from your chest outward, the majority of those messages of delight traveling directly to the base of your torso where the sparks are transformed into seeping desire. Yet through it all, you gaze fondly into each other's eyes, the pace of your breathing rising in sync, your heartbeats likely synchronized as well.

Behind him, the moon rises slowly above his head. The celestial light bathes you both, adding another level of naturalness to the odd situation with this odd person. In the sky above, the myriad stars wink knowingly, anticipating the culmination which must eventually come. The sound of the waves crashing upon the beach seems louder, as if to cover for any noise which might be made at the climax of the moment.

Bending forward, his hands glide upward from your exposed breasts to your shoulders to your neck to your cheeks, holding your head in place as his lips join with yours. The kiss is electrifying, sending charges of passion coursing through you both. You feel your body trembling beneath him as his weight presses you into the ground, and your thighs naturally part for him. Your hands move to his back, caressing him, gently scratching his bare wet skin with your fingernails. And as his lengthy tongue dips into your mouth and probes you with the awe of an explorer who has found a long-awaited treasure, you surrender yourself completely to him, whimpering into him as his tongue slowly penetrates you deeper, ever deeper, practically knocking at the top of your throat.

Your surrender is complete as he rocks against you, your clitoris enjoying the gentle back-and-forth motion of his dripping sex. You clutch him eagerly, your eyes closed, your senses oblivious to anything not directly related to this mysterious person upon you, desiring you, possessing you. Your legs intertwine with his as your body rocks in counterpoint to his movements upon you, and nothing feels so natural as this dance.

His tongue is soon in your throat, blocking off your air, yet you do not feel any fear, any panic. Instead, your body weeps profusely, anointing the swimsuit and the grass beneath you as his sliding motions bring you ever closer to ecstasy. His tongue retreats, allowing you to instinctively gulp air through your nose, then it is lodged deep in your throat once more, descending ever further, seeming to expand within you, spreading your esophagus in the same way you wish he would spread you elsewhere.

It finally happens.

With the power of a cyclone, orgasm pummels your senses. Your body stiffens even as it vibrates vigorously beneath this mysterious swimmer. Your impassioned cry is almost completely silenced by the tongue obstructing your throat. Your fingernails dig deep into his muscled back, and you can feel his pained exhalations filling your mouth. Yet he continues to move upon you, simultaneously pleasuring and torturing your sensitive clitoris as you begin to move beneath him again, your consciousness starting to slowly recede due to the lack of oxygen.

Suddenly, you can breathe again. He is no longer upon you, no longer crushing you into the ground. Your eyes still closed, you gasp loudly, returning quickly to full consciousness. Yet you know what will happen next, and your expectation is met as you feel the wet crotch of your swimsuit being pulled aside and the bulbous tip of his erection pressing against your feminine folds.

The penetration is swift, eased greatly by the copiousness of your release yet still quick enough to cause you to wince from the discomfort. The feeling of fullness is definitely welcome, although you feel quite stretched, quite taut.

Then he is upon you again, his forearms along the ground to prevent his weight from crushing you anew. His mouth swallows your soft vocalizations as he bores into you again and again and again, his actions urged by your tight grip upon his lower cheeks as you pull him roughly into you with every thrust. No longer do you surrender yourself to him; you are now an active participant in the violation of your own body. As he lifts his lips from yours, your heavy breaths seem to fill the air, their sound filling your ears along with the pounding of your own heart and the passionate grunts of this strange being. As unintelligible obscenities spill past your lips, your hands move up to grasp his head, a fingernail immediately snapping from your intense grip.

Your sharp cry of release pierces the starry night as your body arches severely, your chest rising to meet his, your feet flat on the ground, your toes threatening to dig ten tunnels directly to the core of the planet. With a loud and prolonged groan of resistance, he stills himself inside you, sheathed fully within your body, throbbing heartily as he rides out your quivering climax.

When at last you fall limp and sated upon the grass, you release his head, your arms naturally falling into the universal sign of surrender. Even with your eyes closed, you know that he is watching you with awe and admiration while devouring you with his eyes as you slowly recover from the second release, your chest heaving wildly in the aftermath. Yet you can still feel each pulse of his blood as it reinforces the anatomy snugly sheathed deep within you, and you know that his passion must eventually come to its natural culmination.

Carefully, he lowers himself onto you, his weight pressing you into the ground once again, the touch of his chest upon your hardened nipples sending new shockwaves of delight radiating outward from your breasts. His hands grasp yours, and your fingers instinctively intertwine with his. His tongue knocks, and your lips part languidly to allow him admittance.

This time, however, he does not plunder your throat. Instead, he trades gentle licks and soft sounds with you, this as he remains motionless inside you save for the throbs of blood reinforcing his impaling anatomy. Yet you instinctively know that this is simply the calm before the storm, a welcomed simmering of your combined passions before the primal dance begins anew.

Releasing your hands at last, he withdraws his tongue and mouth and lifts himself from you, taking the opportunity to gently squeeze an exposed breast. Through half-open eyes, you watch as he shifts to a sitting position, his hands on your hips to pull you into position, yet his sex never disengages from yours. Carefully, you tuck your legs underneath you, kneeling as you straddle his thighs, and rise up with your hands flat on the grass beneath you to support yourself as you gaze deeply, mesmerized, into his stormy eyes.

Slowly, he begins a steady rhythm, his hands helping you to move upon him. His eyes remain locked with yours, and you can see the storm slowly increasing in intensity within him. Already, your body quivers around the pistoning shaft, eagerly anticipating the resultant injection of his essence. His eyes lower to your chest for just a moment, a smile forming upon his lips as he watches the bouncing of your breasts above the lowered neckline of your swimsuit. Bending forward, he takes a moving nipple into his mouth and effectively stills it between sharpened teeth, causing you to wince and gasp at the slight discomfort, signals which he takes as a cue to gradually increase the pressure around the base of your nipple until you finally cry out, a shrill ultra-feminine sound that pierces the night and probably carries all the way to the nearest island. His mouth is quickly replaced by a hand, your own hand, kneading and massaging away the pain as the same treatment is afforded to your other nipple, culminating in a near-identical cry piercing the night.

Yet the twin points of pain make the action between your thighs all the more pleasurable. The mysterious swimmer tightens his grip upon your hips and moves faster and faster, setting a pace which is a little difficult for your body to match. The repeated sounds of your bodies slamming together fill the air, but they are sharp staccato sounds compared to your combined heavy labored breaths and occasional lengthy groans of desire. Looking into his eyes, you see the storm swirling, the lightning flashing repeatedly.

You feel the first hint of the warm sea lapping against your legs, yet there is no room left in your brain for you to attempt to reason how that could be possible in such a short period of time. Your mind is definitely preoccupied, processing all the sensations and sounds and smells associated with this strange person, this unexpected coupling, this swelling passion.

With his every thrust, you feel him swelling a little more within you, prying your hot passage further than should be possible. Even as your body clutches at him and attempts to draw him ever deeper inside you, his every twitch is felt and sends additional charges of delight coursing through your body, igniting your blood and causing your nerves to sing.

You free arm gives out, and you fall unceremoniously to your back upon the ground with a small splash, your body arched quite awkwardly. The position must certainly provide the odd swimmer with a wonderful view of your whiplashing breasts, free of the confinement of the swimsuit. The view must be an encouragement to him, for his grip upon your hips tightens even further and the force of his thrusts increases almost exponentially.

With each dive into your willing body, he grunts loudly, and you cry out again as you claw through the water at the grass. His motions are quick, decisive, possessive, needful, innate, primal, and you know that he will not be able to hold back the requisite torrent for much longer.

...and neither will you. Almost as soon as that semi-coherent thought is completed, your world is consumed by your climax, every cell of your body selfishly sharing in the primal delight. The natural tide surrounding you matches the orgasmic tides surging repeatedly throughout your entire being, serving to heighten the experience even more.

With a triumphant male bellow, he achieves the release he has sought with you, prolonging your own bliss as his copious essence is practically blasted deep into your body like a torrent of water bursting forth from a highly-pressurized hose. Fast and powerful, the violent streams of his passion sting deep within you, stings barely felt due to your own body's continuing release, flooding around his plundering phallus and anointing his thighs and the grass and the water beneath him.

Slowly, you feel your hips lowering into the rising tide, even though you still feel his thighs beneath you. Partially opening your passion-clouded eyes, you can just barely discern his face and torso, yet it appears that you can almost see through him to gaze upon the moon filling the distant sky. Then he disengages from your body, allowing the crotch of your swimsuit to finally return to its socially-acceptable position, and bends over you once more. Your arms wrap firmly around him as he gives you one final kiss, his fingers brushing over your eyelids to cause you to close your eyes, and you somehow understand what is happening as he slowly transforms into water upon you, your last sensation of him being the warm water that fills your mouth.

Sadly, you ingest the last traces of this strange swimmer, this most unusual entity of the sea. Aware that the tide is about to cover you completely, you slowly rise to a sitting position upon the grass and look around you in amazement. The water appears to be almost everywhere, inexplicably rising. Yet you feel no fear, no curiosity... only loss and sadness at his transformation.

Movement at the edge of your peripheral vision attracts your eyes once more. Straining, you can only discern a humanoid figure in the distance before that person is submerged by the waves once again, but seconds later, it becomes clear that the person is swimming away the beach. And somehow, even at this great distance, you know it is him, your mysterious partner. Closing your eyes, you send a mental message to him, and, despite the dictates of logic and reason, you know that he has received it.

Opening your eyes once more, you find yourself recovering from the recent surgery, reading an unusual tale from an unusual friend. Hopefully, there is a smile upon your face. Hopefully, these words have helped you to forget - at least momentarily - the recent removal of internal organs.

Perhaps, just perhaps, there may be more of these unusual tales to come.

- WF