Phantom Lover

by A. J. Llewellyn

  With the shower still going, I left him a note. Two words—I’m Sorry—and I took my stone for a walk.

  I wondered where I would go next, what I would do. Probably Kimo wanted to put everything behind him, us included. The thought of us being over left me feeling desolate. I should never let him have sex with Nicky.

  My first refuge would be Tutu. I wondered what she would say. I had no desire to move back with her, but I would stay and visit for a few days. Then what? I knew I loved Maui. With or without Kimo, I felt like it was home. I thought about not waking up next to him and the pain ripped through me, like a knife to the heart.

  At the bottom of our hill, an enterprising young tourist couple was selling hot coffee and slices of fruit from a converted hot dog cart and apparently doing okay. I bought a cup of coffee and a piece of watermelon, both of which helped get rid of the taste of the ceremonial food.

  I thought about the ceremony. It had been beautiful, once I removed my emotions from the equation. We had all contributed to creating a new life and I was happy for Nicky. I wanted her to experience the thing she wanted more than anything—motherhood. My left arm started to ache. Twenty minutes away from Kimo and I was already falling apart.

  I retraced my steps and headed back to our house

  And my uncertain future.

  When I walked in the front door, Kimo practically knocked me down with the full force of his embrace. “Where were you? Why weren’t you here when I got out of the shower? What the fuck does this letter mean?”

  What question did I answer first?

  I stepped into his arms and felt the chill in his bones thaw as our hands connected with one another again. Kimo could not get close enough to me. He could get enough of me. His mouth was all over me and I returned his great, gnawing hunger.

  “As long as we live, I will never allow anyone to talk me into doing anything like that again.” He kissed me over and over.

  We fell on the bed and I pulled the towel off him. He started to cry when I took his cock in my hands.

  “I’m sorry I let you do it, Kimo. I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head, unable to speak. I moved my mouth to his cock, which was hardening with every stroke of my fingers.

  “Take it, it’s yours,” he said and I wanted my mouth to work wonders for him.

  Kimo moved underneath me as I touched, stroked and sucked him until I got him the way I like him—rock hard.

  I looked at him. “You want to come in my mouth or inside me?”

  He pulled me to him and put his tongue in my mouth. “I taste coffee.” He probed again. “And I taste tears and I taste doubt. Lopaka…I never meant for you to feel abandoned. I’m sorry.”

  Undressing me with all the concentration of somebody who wanted to take note of every last freckle on my skin, he moved so that we could suck each other’s cocks and, at last, he couldn’t wait anymore. “I need to fuck you. I need to forget what happened today.”

  I pulled him to me and urged him inside me. Our legs and arms were akimbo, our tongues fucking at each other’s mouths. “Don’t come yet,” he said. “I want to fuck you with my mouth.” He kept grinding his way into me, my body feeling like it was split in two as he raised my hips. As he drove all the way into me, he took my cock into his mouth and sucked me.

  Kimo stopped sucking. “Oh fuck.” He put his mouth straight back on me. He kept at it until we both exploded.

  “Lopaka, I wish you and I could make babies. If you want one, I’ll give you one. I’m thinking maybe a surrogate. But this is strictly a turkey baster proposition. I never want to fuck another woman as long as I live.”

  I laughed then. A baby with Kimo. “I’d love a baby, but I want some time alone with you.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” His cock slipped out of me. “There’s something else I want.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Lopaka, I want you to fuck me.”

  * * * *

  Kimo was more excited about me fucking him than I was. He was so ready for it, that I had to calm him down. We opened a bottle of champagne and I took my time, kissing and licking him, getting his ass nice and juicy.

  “Would you just fuck me?” He was impatient to get on with it.

  Now I knew there was no going back for him and I was happy to give my cock-happy baby exactly what he wanted.

  “We need lubrication.”

  “We have some.”

  “We do?”

  “Sure…from when he who must not be named was here. Remember?”

  I scavenged through the bedside drawer.

  “Perfect. Now stick that cock into me.” He surprised me. We downed a couple of glasses of champagne and I started my anal assault on Kimo.

  He was so eager for that cock in his ass, he kept pushing against me, trying to get it in him. I took my time and I could tell it was an unexpected feeling for him. That pleasure-pain I felt whenever he took me always melted the second I felt him get all the way in.

  Kimo gasped with the unfamiliarity of a finger in his ass.

  “That’s different,” he said. I moved it in and out, sucking his cock, teasing his nipples, then I put a second finger into him.

  “Wow, that’s hot. That feels good.”

  “It doesn’t hurt?”

  “No. It’s amazing.” He held my hand to him, as though he was afraid I was going to move to Israel. I started massaging his perineum, his very sensitive space between his balls and ass.

  “Oh hell, yeah,” he laughed. “That’s great, Lopaka. Give me one more finger, then fuck me.” He started to relax and I worked on stroking his beautiful cock, which was hard and dribbling pre-come. I swiped at it with my fingers and licked it.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah…oh yeah. Baby…this is something else.”

  I could feel the inferno of warmth waiting for me. My cock slowly entered him and soon, I was engulfed with his virgin man-pussy and I felt him opening his legs to me.

  “Oh yeah, baby. Fuck me, Lopaka. Fuck me.”

  And I started giving it to him as his hands flew to my ass pushing me into him. I reached down to kiss him, loving the feel of his tightness, his increasing wetness, loving the sounds he was making, the way he was begging me to give it to him. I showed him no mercy because I had to have him. I pulled on his cock and it bobbled on my hand.

  “Oh…oh man…I had no idea.” Kimo’s head shook from side to side and I felt his orgasm blister from deep within him. I knew this was how it felt to him each time I came with his cock inside me.

  Kimo almost came off the bed as I impaled him with my red-hot poker. I pinned him to the bed with my hands and took long strokes in and out of him. He rocked with me as my hand kept its stroking pace on his beautiful fuck meat. He came and his orgasm reached me. I felt like I’d somersaulted in water. Over and over we twisted and turned together and we came up for air, my beautiful man whispering in my mouth, “I love you.”

  Kimo was crazy about fucking and getting fucked. I thought he’d want a break after the first time but I loved how insatiable he was. We were up all night and, in the morning, we lay in bed, Kimo holding me as the room grew lighter and lighter until the whole world was awake.

  “She didn’t mean to leave you,” he said then. I knew he was talking about my mother. “She was young and she was in trouble and she made a mistake she probably spent the rest of her life regretting. I don’t know how she could do that. I personally can’t be away from you for more than half an hour without feeling like I’m having a heart attack.”

  “Twenty minutes seems to be my limit with you.”

  He kissed me and his fingers kept stroking the contours of my face. I felt the tension and stress of Mim, the baby, all of it, leaving me.

  “I don’t know how Mim could let you go. It would kill me if you said goodbye.” His face took on a somber look. “Sorry. We should be celebrating,” I said, but his arms still held me down.

  “We are celebrating, Lopaka. A life
of all good things. Let’s go out somewhere fun for dinner tonight. You trust me to pick the restaurant or do you want dinner here at home?”

  I wanted dinner alone with him, but I knew he wanted to be out amongst people, with noise and chatter and lights.

  “You can pick the place,” I said. “I trust you.”

  He started flipping through phone book. “I wonder if Alan Wong is booked for tonight.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. I take back everything I said. I’m picking the restaurant.”

  “I had to get me a bossy wife,” he grinned.

  * * * *

  “Are you sure about this place?” He looked appalled when we pulled up for a late lunch-early dinner in Wailuku, the bad end of Wailuku, full of flophouses and bordellos. “This looks kinda…sordid, baby.”

  We were outside the alleyway leading to Sorabol, the best Korean restaurant in town. I loved that place. The food was superb, which would make Kimo happy, and I’d get to cook for him, which always made me happy.

  “It’s so weird looking.” He gestured when we got to the door. “All those faded lanterns. And those travel posters! I was thinking fine dining. I wanted to take you to the most expensive restaurant in town. This place is like a bad dream.”

  “Aloha,” the hostess greeted us.

  “Aloha,” we responded. “Can we get a Yakiniku table?” I asked.

  Kimo laughed when he saw the table loaded with a charcoal brazier in the middle. “Tabletop cooking, I love it.”

  Our waitress came bustling over. It was Chanel, my all-time favorite. “Bobby,” she squealed, giving me a hug. “Where have you been hiding?”

  “With him.” I introduced her to Kimo. “Is the chicken good tonight, Chanel?”

  “I’ll bring you the best. You know I always do. You want all the veggies with that?”

  “Please. And some Shik hae, and how is the kalbi?”

  “You’re eating beef?” she asked.

  “No, Kimo likes it.”

  “One portion kalbi. You like kimchi?”

  “Yes, please,” Kimo grinned. “He’s got me hooked on that stuff.”

  We held hands under the table and the happy sounds and smells of good eating and good fun erased the bad memories of the diet of bitter greens.

  Chanel came back with our food. She popped endless plates on the table and got our burner going. “You like vinegar and soy, yeah?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I opened up the grill.

  “You mean you’re cooking it yourself?” Kimo asked me.

  “This is your first time here?” Chanel asked. On his nod, she smiled, “Ah, then I leave you in the hands of an expert. I’ll come and check on you in a few minutes.”

  I busied myself cooking the chicken and beef the way I like to cook it. Kimo practically inhaled the thinly sliced beef.

  “Lopaka,” he groaned. “You are the best cook I know.”

  “I love taking care of you.” I was thrilled when he reached over and kissed me. “Here, try this.”

  He obediently opened his mouth and I popped in a piece of chicken with my chopsticks. “That’s amazing. What did you cook that with?”

  “Pickle brine, you like it?”

  “Oh my God, I love it. We have to get one of these burners for our house.”

  “I would love that. Did you try the Shik hae?”

  “You mean the drink?” he sipped at it. “That’s good. What is it?”

  “Sweet rice drink. Ah, here’s our kimchi. Thank you, Chanel.”

  “You finished all the beef? You want more?” Kimo nodded eagerly and she hurried away again.

  “Is this tofu?” He picked it up. “Not as good as yours, baby, but a close second.”

  Kimo and I did some major damage to the vast array of dishes Chanel kept producing.

  “Thank you, I love this place,” he said to me when there wasn’t a bite left on any of the dishes. “I love you for bringing us here.” He signaled Chanel for the check. “You ready for some Hawaiian?”

  I laughed then. “I’m always ready for Hawaiian.”

  Chanel brought the check. “No dessert?” She fake-pouted.

  “No, I have my dessert right here.” Kimo pointed to me. Chanel laughed and removed the dishes we had left on the table.

  Kimo kept staring at the check. “I think she added this wrong. She must have left off something.”

  “How much is it?” I asked.

  “Twelve dollars.”

  “No, that sounds about right.”

  “Then she’s getting a nice big tip.”

  That was my man, heart like a lion.

  “Any regrets?” he asked. Johnny had asked me that once, but I knew with Kimo that the concern was real.

  “None at all.”

  “Because you’re stuck with me, you know.”

  “I like being stuck with you. Kimo, there’s just one thing.”

  He looked at me.

  “I have to go home to Tutu soon. I need to return the stone.”

  “You’re right. You don’t need it anymore and we should tell her we’re on track finally.”

  He read me so easily. I wonder if he really understood how much I loved him, how much he’d given me.

  Kimo shook his head as he signed the receipt and pocketed his credit card. “You give me so much. You are au.”

  It was a lucky thing we were heading home. Telling me I was au—all in Hawaiian—was the kinda talk that made me forget everything else.

  * * * *

  Kimo and I arrived home, throwing open the windows, lighting incense, making coffee. Kimo stacked our collection of Pele—The Fire Goddess CDs for us to listen to as we unpacked a few of the boxes Mim had brought to the ceremony of his belongings.

  He had fun showing me old photos and old letters. He was remarkably relaxed for somebody who’d just agreed to pony up half his earnings and most of his real estate.

  The first CD out of the changer rotation was Arthur Lyman. I loved the opening track where Lyman taped exotic sounds of birds long since extinct and an actual volcanic eruption got my horny man all lathered up and we were soon engaged in a heated sixty-nine on the living room floor.

  We were there when a FedEx guy arrived, startled to see two men having sex to the tune of a volcanic eruption. I threw a rug over Kimo who was laughing. I went and opened the door, a pireau around my waist.

  He didn’t look disgusted, just embarrassed. I signed his electronic clipboard and he came back from his truck with a massive cardboard box.

  “Thank you,” I said as Kimo joined me at the door. The FedEx guy took off as if we were about to get undressed in front of him, then I realized he’d been intimidated by Kimo’s appearance. I loved having such a dangerous-looking dude.

  I turned and kissed him. He pulled the pireau off me. “Did you ship this package?” I asked him.

  He took his lips off me long enough to say, “No,” then went right back to plundering my mouth with his tongue.

  “Then who sent it?”

  He reluctantly took his mouth off me and we checked the paperwork in my hand.

  “It’s from Kaiona and Nicky. Wow. What could they be sending us?”

  He brought a box cutter out from the kitchen and we hacked at the box for several minutes until the packaging fell away to reveal the painting, Phantom Lover.

  I was in bliss. Especially when I saw this was not the Phantom Lover I knew, but a special one made just for Kimo and me. I was in the picture with him, not the woman. And Kimo was in it solidly. No more disappearing man. I burst into tears and Kimo held me.

  “What a beautiful gift,” I kept saying. “How did they get it? It’s amazing.”

  “It’s us.” He kissed me again.

  “I want you to put it up in our bedroom, then I want you to fuck me under it.”

  “In our bedroom? Nobody will see it there.” He saw the look on my face. “I think we should put it in our bedroom. Good idea.”

  We mounted that painting with some
effort. It was heavy and we didn’t want it landing on our heads in the middle of a great fuck. At last, Kimo and I fell on the bed, grabbing at each other. I kept looking at the picture as the man who was immortalized in it and fucked me as if his life depended on it. We sank into each other’s arms in a tangle of suckling mouths, bonded limbs and stroking fingers, as Madame Pele’s rage morphed into the sound of rain and thunder.

  The song playing was Jake Welsh’s The Love Immortal.

  Kimo and I moved together as one, reveling in each other, stoking our eternal flames.

  “I will never, ever leave you.” Kimo’s words were a psalm, and our heat-seeking mouths could no longer be contained, reaching for one other.

  And the men in the picture and in the bed loved each other rightly.

  Just as it had been foretold by the ancients.

  About The Author

  A.J. Llewellyn lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in the fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep him refueled. A.J. loves Hawaiian history and mythology, male/male erotica, has a passion for all animals, even spiders. A.J. Llewellyn believes that love is a song best sung out loud.

  His website is

  www.ajllewellyn.com.