They swam about twenty meters from the boat and dove under the water. Underneath, their bodies met and they held tight, squeezing to the point the wetsuits squeaked even under the water. While under, they kissed with the last of their breath while tussling like spawning fish swimming upstream. Their hands roamed as their tongues invaded each other’s mouths while holding their breath in the dark. It was a sensation that made them boil in the cool water.
Surrounded by wetness and darkness, heads popped out of the water, gasping for breath. They panted as their large swim fins made it easy to stay afloat. Psalms reached for the waistband of Gabrielle’s wetsuit and found the area that had a custom-made opening. He could open the crotch area of her wetsuit. The cold water concentrated blood in her already thick pussy lips, making them swell.
Hovering and kissing passionately in the middle of the dark water, twenty meters from the boat at 2 a.m., the lovers played underwater in the darkness. Lights from the shore and stars above put them on a stage that no one could see, but they were making love for everything underneath them.
His thick fingers found her inner wetness; it was hot in the middle of the cold water. His finger pushed past her full pussy lips. He felt her contract as if sucking on his finger. He started sliding his finger in and out of her. She dipped her head underneath the water, but he could hear her humming, groaning. Bubbles floated up as his finger firmly pushed inside her. Psalms’ finger stroked in and out of her hot wetness. He dragged his finger up to her clit; she liked it when his finger flicked back and forth.
Her head popped out of the water as she gasped for air. She liked that feeling of running out of air and knowing she was safe with Psalms, and feeling the comfort of his body pressed against hers. They drifted closer to the boat and the underwater lights started to highlight them. Their shiny wetsuits, leather-smooth, reflected the changing colors of the boat’s underwater lights. Their swim fins, flipping smoothly under the water, made the water around them pretty and kept them afloat.
As they kissed above the water, he took his other hand and slid his finger down her backside and down between the crease of her ass. Psalms stopped over the opening of her ass. The tip of his finger pushed inside, and while his middle finger slid inside her pussy, his thumb played with her clit. He began to work her into a frenzy underneath the water. Gabrielle made loud, senseless sounds. She sank back beneath the water. As he had many times before, Psalms held her body so she could not come up for air unless he let her. His fingers worked and worked in and out of her ass, her pussy, and on her clit all in rhythm, massaging, caressing around and around until bubbles floated up, and her body trembled and jerked. Psalms pulled her up, and she sucked in a massive gulp of air. She laid her head on his shoulder, trembling from the lasting aftershock from coming so hard, having an orgasm while not being able to breathe. She loved that erotic-asphyxiation feeling of running out of air while having an orgasm. Often she begged for his hands to hold her throat closed, not to the point of hurting, but just so the carotid arteries of her neck would aid in her pleasure. With strangulation or the sudden loss of oxygen to the brain, the buildup of carbon dioxide increased the feelings of overexcitement, lightheadedness, and erotic pleasure, heightening orgasmic sensations. She trusted him, knowing Psalms understood the limit, and he could revive her; it helped to get her off into intense spasms.
Still floating, he flipped his swimming fins a little harder and held her as she recovered. As she started to move, using her own fins to stay afloat, he opened the crotch area of his wetsuit. His dick was hard and straight up like a pointed periscope.
Gabrielle went back under the water and sucked his hardness. He lay his head back and felt her sucking him good, and the fact he couldn’t see her added to the pleasure. She couldn’t do it for long, but she wanted to give him pleasure and not leave her man hanging. They swam back to the boat. Alongside the boat, she held on to the ladder as he moved behind and over the top of her ass. Waving their swim fins slowly, they stayed near the surface. He slid his hard dick into her pussy from behind. If anybody was to see, one might have thought it was how porpoises had sex. Humping hard with the water messing up his cadence, his hardness pulled out of her pussy. The cold water surrounded his balls, and made them gather tightly. He slid back inside her heat, stroking her and causing a considerable amount of splashing as he thrust his hips. Gabrielle pushed her ass up and out of the water to help a deeper penetration.
They stopped for a moment as if they had many times, and they knew what to do. She climbed partly up the ladder attached to the boat, and he did, too, so he could keep humping her ass as his dick found her slippery hotness again. He gripped the ladder, held and yanked it to help him hump on her ass so hard she could have pulled the bolts out. He groaned and groaned as he humped her hard and fast. He threw his head back and thrust into her, and a hard release of his hot, inner fluid shot into her. She felt his thick warmness, and clamped her thighs tight, and held still while her pussy muscles manipulated him to give all he had to the last drop. He groaned as his hardness dissipated, and he purposely fell back into the water separating from her body. Gabrielle climbed aboard, and Psalms took a couple of backstrokes before joining her.
Back in the stateroom, a hot shower caressed them with warmth. They washed each other from head to toe and all in between; they steamed their way into bed and began to drift asleep.
The last thing they heard on the stereo was The Isley Brothers singing “Voyage to Atlantis.”
CHAPTER 14
Intrusive Torment
“Stop, get your hands off me! Get your hands off me!” Evita felt two sets of hands manhandling her. First her feet were untied, then each ankle retied to the bed posts. Then, her hands were tied wide apart. A warm and wet towel was wiped over her body. The scent smelled like lilac soap. From her fingers, underarms and breasts, and from her torso on down to her private parts, her legs and feet, she felt someone was bird bathing her whole body.
Whomever had bathed her had taken a considerable amount of time washing around and in her vagina and anus. It had turned in to foreplay with someone using something oily, massaging into those same areas.
“Stop touching me. Get your hands off of me.” Evita’s plea went unanswered, and someone kept touching her. With the fact Evita had both male and female genitalia, the person or people enjoyed their intrusive assault on her. She heard the breathing become heavier on one side of her; on the other side, she heard a wet sound. She knew a woman was playing with her own pussy, and also knew a man was masturbating. Which one was touching her, she couldn’t tell. She was fighting for her genitals not to react.
Evita began to assume that, after so much time had gone by and she had not heard any speaking voices, whomever it was, worried they might be identified. Such a thing gave her hope of surviving. She relaxed her body, and forbade her mind and soul to be tormented by the molesting violators assaulting her body. Maybe she was going to live to fight another day.
CHAPTER 15
Choices
Tylowe walked out of the airport and into the Vegas sun. It was warmer than Seattle’s spring weather, but it wasn’t the summer heat warming his bald head. Suzy Q pulled up to the curb in a classic convertible 1965 Jaguar. She had rented it from an exotic car company.
Her thin lips separated just enough for Tylowe to see her chewing a large wad of gum. She wore sunglasses, the same multifunctional kind as Psalms used, but Suzy Q’s were extremely dark.
She adjusted her black-and-white polka-dot scarf. In her red, thin, cowboy-style blouse, she looked the part of a movie star from the 1930s. She didn’t smile at Tylowe, but instead turned her head toward him and blew a big bubble with her gum until it popped. She was pretending to be a Hollywood starlet, picking up her co-star. He threw his bags in the backseat and eased into the old but preserved leather seat.
No music was playing, so immediately Tylowe reached for the updated radio controls. He scanned radio stations, but couldn’t find his tas
te in music. So, he reached into one of his bags and pulled out his iPod and headphones.
They hit the highway with Suzy Q racing against the Vegas hotels in the backdrop. Tylowe enjoyed the view for a while before he tilted his head back against the headrest. From the moment the plane had landed, he had been on edge. He closed his eyes and let the sun paint red behind his eyelids in an attempt to calm his nerves.
Their destination was, hopefully, where the children might be staying. He and Suzy Q would broach that situation in the morning. With time on his hands, Tylowe planned to meet up with a few old college classmates who lived in Vegas.
Booked into The Flamingo for the night, Suzy Q had other plans; she was hitting the night scene to hang with people who rolled like her. She was looking forward to partying with the above-ground Vegas underground that played freely, with no opposition from anal attitudes. Suzy Q was about to get her party on with cross-dressers, gays, lesbians, transvestites, and even some straight folk who just wanted a wild party. She had already tapped her connections for the places to be.
In his hotel room, Tylowe reviewed all the information that Psalms had gathered again. He needed to get out of his room before he went over the plan, yet again, to rescue the kids and contemplate all the things that might go wrong.
The idea of things going wrong revolved in his heart and mind. As he dressed, he found himself staring in the mirror of his four-cornered room. He went to the window and eyed people walking, trying to get lost in the moment. What if I get hurt or even die? Me trying to save Elliot’s other children…The trauma Meeah and my daughters would experience… Life for them would change forever in ways that could tear their lives in to shredded emotions and beliefs. All we have built to become family could be destroyed. It saddened his mood.
He went down to the sports bar and placed a bet on Floyd Mayweather’s upcoming fight, and decided to walk the strip. It felt nice to have on a thin, knit short-sleeve shirt without needing a coat at night. The Vegas night lights and nightlife had taken over the strip.
Entertaining his visual senses, Tylowe smiled at how women loved to come to Vegas to sport attire they would never wear in their hometown. Stilettoes pinched toes and strained body parts, but they strolled the strip. It’s sexy to see, but damn how does a woman walk from hotel to hotel? Tylowe laughed as women openly flirted with their lips pursing, smiling and eyes latching on to way-too-long stares. Most of them knew damn well it was only flirting, with no end game other than going home and claiming to have met a hot guy.
Tylowe recounted how hundreds of times, he had heard men claiming they had come to Vegas and other vacation spots and met the finest and the hottest women they had ever seen. In truth, most of these men were stuck in a fantasy land. If ever a man had come to Vegas and scored, it would be rare. If anything, men had paid for a piece of ass at a dude ranch, kissing women who had condom breath. Maybe a few men had paid a woman to come to their hotel room. Paying for it was not the same as saying you got a hook-up because you were such a hot guy with exceptional skills and good looks. Most men and women walking down the strip and hanging out in Vegas hotels, bars, and lounges had a ball because they spent a lot of money, and that qualified as a good time.
Tylowe viewed the women walking down the strip. Most were letting their hair down, relaxing from the constrictions of their daily life. He walked over to the nightclub where his old college mates told him they’d met at a Neo-Soul night going on with a live band.
The previous night, he had been on a ferry cruising Lake Washington with his beautiful wife, the two of them struggling to flow as one. He told her he was going to Vegas with Suzy Q for business. That had never been a problem, and it wasn’t this time, either. Suzy Q protected Tylowe and Meeah as if they were her blood family.
On board the ferry in Seattle, the women had been pretty, friendly, and beautiful. Tylowe turned the corner into the lounge area of the Vegas nightclub and saw a packed house of women that most men would label as not just pretty, friendly, and beautiful, but fine.
These women had perfect makeup, perfect nails, perfect lip gloss and perfectly batting eyelashes. The women all fit in to perfectly stylish dresses covering varying body types, and were all wearing tall heels.
Tylowe smiled as if someone had told him a good joke, and reflected on a saying, “What happens in Vegas…” Of the women in the club, most were near his daughter’s age, in their mid-twenties, and some were his friends’ daughter’s age, in their thirties. The other women in the club were forty-ish, and were trying to look as young as someone’s daughter in how they dressed and flirted with the men in the lounge. Some pulled it off well, he had to admit.
Some of the men were in suits, and some wore XXXL shirts and pressed, creased oversized jeans. Tylowe felt a bit out of place wearing a knit shirt with a collar that fit his body and jeans that hugged his physique nicely.
Tylowe arrived a half hour earlier than his old classmates had scheduled to meet. He headed to an empty spot at the bar and ordered a beer. The band was playing an oldie, Grover Washington, Jr.’s “Mister Magic,” with added funk to the groove.
A tap on his shoulder distracted him out of his musical moment. “Hello, Mr. Dandridge. Is that you, with that sprinter’s behind still staring at me after all these years?”
At first he wasn’t sure that someone was talking to him. The band was playing, people were talking, and drink glasses were clinking. The noise slowed his response. When he did turn around, he saw a face he had not seen since college. Erika Corwin had been a hurdler on the girls’ track team and a former lover—or what people today refer to as a booty call. She and Tylowe were the same age, nearing fifty. True to the saying that black don’t crack, Erika had not aged since maybe she had turned thirty. Tall and still looking athletic, the only thing different about Erika from back in the day was that where she once had a huge afro, now was a short, curly hairdo.
“Erika, how are you? It’s been a long time.”
“It’s been way too long, and how have you been? ‘It’s Been A Long Time’—that’s a song you and I used to listen to.”
“Yeah, you’re right. New Birth. We wore that record out—and a few other things.”
“I know that’s right.” They both laughed.
Tylowe and Erika hesitated for a long second, not sure how to react to each other. When they did reach to hug, it almost felt like going back in time. Tylowe ingested her scent. Strangely, he remembered it from thirty-plus years ago. She kissed his cheek: it wasn’t an aggressive kiss, but a soft, slightly seductive, long peck on the cheek.
“Oh boy, you still smell good, hmm.”
They slept together on and off all through college, and old feelings elapsed as the two revisited moments in their memories. They shared a silence in a noisy lounge while their eyes connected, reminiscing on the sex they once had: under the bleachers behind the track, in their dorm rooms, everywhere.
The first time it had happened, they hardly knew each other. Flirting as freshmen do, they teased each other as they worked out each day, signifying to each other, “I’m too much for you, you don’t want this.” One day, Erika followed Tylowe behind the bleachers as he went to relieve himself. She watched from a distance, but he knew she was watching. He made little effort to hide as he was bold then, and full of ego. He tempted her by leaving his sweats down long after he had finished taking a leak. He swung his dick back and forth and his ass followed.
Erika approached him. She could see the tight jockstrap’s bands curving around his firm sprinter’s behind. Thirty years ago, she tapped him on his shoulder almost the same way as she had done moments ago.
That tap on his shoulder back then had led to kissing, and then to the both of them getting on the ground naked. It was the first time Tylowe had seen a woman with a huge bush of pubic hair. It was so thick that he couldn’t see her vagina. It freaked him out at first until he felt his dick slide in and out. The added friction from her thick pubic hair almost made him cum t
oo quickly. He had to control how crazy he went so that he didn’t cum too fast.
The behind-the-bleacher adventure was a nice recollection. Tylowe’s other memories were of the times he was in Erika’s dorm room having sex. Slightly over six feet tall, Erika had long, firm legs. With her long legs spread wide over her bed, her toes could touch the floor on each side of the bed.
Tylowe visualized eating her pussy from behind. It was easy access because she could tilt her ass just so and expose her thick, full pussy lips through the thick pubic hair with her asshole in full view. His tongue would part her pussy and her lips would close around his tongue or dick. The jock and jockette would get in to athletic, nasty sex, often with Erika using her extreme flexibility. Tylowe remembered her taste, and the nastiness and feel. His dick thickened and his balls stirred while remembering. He spread his legs a little wider while he sat at the bar next to Erika. She noticed.
The memory intensified: going back in time, riding and pounding Erika’s round, hard ass into the bed as her roommate would sit on her own bed naked, with legs spread, fingering herself as she watched the live porn show. Her roommate was a girl on the volley- ball team whose sexuality was clouded, and wasn’t having sex with guys regularly, if ever, but for sure she was horny.
Erika’s roommate loved to watch and masturbated every time Tylowe’s dick was in Erika’s mouth or pussy. She loved to watch Erika on her knees while Tylowe stood above her letting his dick slide back and forth between Erika’s lips.
The two lovers often acted as if the roommate wasn’t there as Tylowe did the Standing 69. Tylowe made sure the roommate could watch his tongue extend and pump into Erika’s pussy.
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