The brim of the ragged straw hat cast a pleasant shadow over his clear blue eyes. He leaned back stretching his legs against the front of the teak lined cockpit. The sails were down, the boat bobbing lazily in the hidden cay. A month of sailing had got him to his destination. It hadn’t been all relaxation. For several days along the coast he had run into some rough weather. But having endured he was now basking in sunshine. He wore no shirt or shoes. Straw hat and shorts were all anyone should need. A darkening tan covered his body. Stress had been left behind when he cast anchor and left the north country. It was a quick lesson, living to make money = stress; living to survive = enjoy life to its fullest.
It had been two years since leaving, and he hadn’t regretted a minute. Life has a way of pointing to the truth, all we have to do is keep our eyelids open. But right now he couldn’t keep from drifting off to sleep.
Breath of Life, is the name of his ship. A 40′ cutter bought off a man and wife from Vancouver, BC. Built in 1969 the couple had owned her for the last 25 years. She had great lines. The ship that is. Her hull had just recently been overhauled and there had been minimal work left to get her seaworthy.
Before becoming a vagabond he once had a top secret job working for the Man. That’s where he met her. As the saying goes, ‘Timing is everything’. Her name is Lucy. He was two years her senior. Around 5’5″, she had a cute little figure, with just the right amount of meat on all the right places. Her devilish smile could warm any heart. Especially his. A spattering of freckles across her nose and deep blue eyes that seemed to cut deep into a man’s soul.
And following the words of our President, “I did not have sexual relations with Lucy.”
Not that he didn’t think about it daily. His one desire was to feel her sopping wet pussy sliding up and down on his rock hard pole. He envisioned her feet straddling his waist. Those dripping wet lips poised millimeters from the mushroom shaped head of his circumcised cock. Then quickly lowering her hips to impale herself on his engorged cock. How she lifted herself, straight up and then plummeting down, over and over, as if she were on a trampoline. Her 36C cup breasts with their pink nipples bouncing to the rhythm. As she leaned backward, her naturally curly light brown hair cascaded down her back. Hearing her moaning in pleasure, as her pussy swallowed up his glistening shaft until at last, a torrent of white hot cum filled her throbbing snatch. Screaming out as her orgasm overtook her, their juices intermingling as she continued her wild ride.
But it was not to be. At least not the fucking. For they were in other relationships. So to remain faithful she offered up her hot wet pussy to be licked and suckled. And with her mouth and tongue she worshipped his manhood. Sucking his rod like no woman has. Before or since. To say the least, her blow jobs were transcendental.
Within two years she took a job with a financial firm providing her with all the security a girl could ask for.
For over 10 years they communicated. As friends. They would text or talk of love, sex, travel, and adventure but when asked to chuck it all and leave she couldn’t.
With time, contact became less and less. He was sure she had moved on.
He had chucked it all. Finally! He was not old enough to retire. But after working for the government for over thirty years they don’t care how old you are they just kick you out. And he was thankful.
Now he was just off the coast of Panama having crossed through the Canal. A squall forced him below deck and he was hunkering down for some much needed rest. Turning on his computer for the first time in a week he began perusing the countless emails he had received. Deep down he hated emails and texting. Like English food, bland. No voice inflections or body language to help communicate. Only monotone type, WTF, BFF, LOL, :).
In amongst all the jokes from old coworkers, Northface advertisements, one caught his eye. it was from Lucy!
Caught off guard he hesitated momentarily. It was usually he who initiated a conversation. And why now after so long?
My finger click down on the mouse.
Do you still want to see me?
He pondered. You can never be too sure about people. They never say what they mean. Usually they act strictly out of emotions. In this instance perhaps in a tizzy she sent this email and five minutes later regretted it. But as he rested safe in his cabin he decided to reply. In Times New Roman of course.
who is this? He paused momentarily before hitting send. He knew that this three word sentence could be a game changer. If she really knows him she will play along. If not, she will be pissed.
In the back of his mind he could honestly say he didn’t expect any response. Especially one so soon. Within minutes.
LUCY you wise ass? Have you forgotten so soon?
‘Forgotten. Hell, it was I who tried to keep the relationship alive. Short of abducting you, Lord knows all the emails and texts I sent. Every holiday including your birthday.’
So much for internalizing his rant. He decided to send the wittiest of remarks.
🙂
Before she could respond he decided to follow it up with a more civilized answer.
currently headed to warmer climes. wanna come? – 6
For clarification, He’s a Pisces. A water sign. The Fish. The shape forms a perfect 69. It had come about when they were both younger, wilder, and madly in lust. To circumvent any chance of outsiders from reading their correspondence they had concocted a language based on numbers. Both of them enjoyed not only the mind exercises of deciphering coded messages but the excitement of communicating nasty thoughts to each other. In private. His number was 6. It was to remind Lucy how much he loved going down on her. And her’s was 9. Though he thought she had forgotten by now.
Yes, are you still interested?
Wow! He never thought he’d see this day.
Let’s just say in two weeks I will be docked in Castries, St Lucia. if you’re so inclined I will send you a plane ticket. Join me.
No sooner had it been sent when the following appeared in the upper left hand corner of the screen.
No Service.
Just his luck, or Kismet. As Lucy would say. Fate. He had to wait ’til he approached closer to land before receiving her response. That was a long two days. When he did, he was more than surprised.
99999999999
He was speechless.
Fair winds carried the Breath of Life and it’s sailor to the Castries, on the Isle of St Lucia part of the Windward Islands. A relatively small island with less than a couple hundred thousand French/Creole speaking people.
The activity of the harbor welcomed him in. Cruise ships were docked with thousands of tourists descending upon the city. The noise was a stark reminder of what he had left behind not so long ago. Setting up at the small internet cafe closest to the marina he emailed Lucy.
still ready for an adventure? – 6
Yes – 9
Thats a good sign. he thought to himself, Moments later he quickly booked her flight. Then he waited. In Paradise.