Down this way, heading South, away from campus, the river is deeper and the water is moving faster. I’m surprised at myself that I forget where the river leads to, but I’m pretty sure it feeds into the lake, collecting all the rain from the area.
There are some wet boulders along the river’s edge, and I gingerly walk along them, relishing the sense of physical danger that’s been foreign to me for so long. I keep my arms extended, trying to keep my balance.
I’m trying my best to keep ‘out of my head,’ and in the present moment, to the point of actually putting my self in danger.
But I can’t do it. I’m just too intellectual. That’s what everyone’s been telling me for all these years, and it’s completely true. I’m always stuck in my head. Right now, I’m still thinking about Anchor, and about what I’ll say to him when I finally find him.
Suddenly, I slip.
It happens so fast I barely even notice it, but before I notice it, I’ve fallen, banging my side against the boulder, and falling right into the water.
The water is flowing much faster than I’d thought. It’s much stronger. I put my feet down, but I can’t feel the bottom. It could be really deep. I’m not a bad swimmer, and I manage to get over to the edge of the river by moving my arms and legs furiously in something approximating freestyle. I don’t have time right now though to worry about my form, or whether I’m executing the stroke correctly.
The situation is getting serious fast.
I grab onto the side of the boulder, but it’s wet and slippery. I can’t get a grip, and I can’t pull myself up.
The strong current pulls me away from the boulder after just thirty seconds.
I’m losing strength, trying to fight against the current. I’m trying my best not to be swept away.
My heart is pounding in my chest like it never has before. Inside, I’m panicking, but above the recessed river, the calm blue sky and beautiful trees that gently way in the wind are a strange juxtaposition to my own situation.
“Help!” I cry, finally realizing I’m not going to make it out of this by myself. “Help! Someone help me! I’m drowning. I’m being swept away.” I yell as loud as I can, but I’m sure there’s no one around.
The situation doesn’t seem real. The danger feels surreal.
I’m being pulled down the river.
There’s a blur somewhere in my field of vision, but I can’t see what it is.
“Help,” I scream again. I’m losing all my strength trying to fight against being pulled down stream. This isn’t good. I’m losing my strength that I need to stay afloat, and I’m being pulled under.
But there’s someone. Someone on the edge of the river.
Someone strong and muscular, with a perfect body. It’s Anchor! He’s running towards the river as fast as he can, moving his body like I’ve never seem him move it, even faster than during his races.
He dives in without even taking his shirt off, without pausing at all.
I go under.
The current is swirling around me. I’m not at the bottom yet, but I bash into a big boulder underneath the water.
Suddenly, strong arms are around me. Just when I think I’m completely lost, when I’m almost out of breath, Anchor grabs me.
He starts pulling me towards the edge of the river, bringing me up to the surface.
I’m gasping for breath, completely drenched, looking around wildly, still not completely sure what’s happening.
I go back under the water for a moment, but Anchor pulls me up again. He’s somehow treading water while completely supporting me. His body feels hard and strong against mine. He feels tough and hard, and so strong he could never sink, no matter how strong the river is.
He’s pulled me to the edge, but the boulders on the edge are so high, he can’t get a grip to pull us up to the bank.
“Dave,” he cries out.
“Hmpph,” I say, trying to speak, but I’m still choking on water and merely sputtering some gibberish.
Looking up, I can just make out another figure on the edge of the water. It’s Dave, and he’s lowering one of his crutches down.
Anchor grabs onto it, and Dave starts pulling, planting his feet deep into the ground, and trying his best to pull us up. But he isn’t strong enough.
“Can you hold on to me yourself?” says Anchor.
I’m not sure that I can. I feel weak, completely drained, as if the last bit of energy has left me, but I nod my head anyway. I grab Anchor as hard as I can around the waist, locking my hands together.
Anchor uses both hands and starts climbing up Dave’s crutch, pulling us up out of the river.
We’re almost all the way up when my strength leaves me, and my arms start to slip.
Anchor releases one of his arms from the crutch and grabs me just in time, gripping my wrist with a strength I’ve never felt before.
I start losing track of what’s happening. I don’t know why, but the terror is overtaking me, the terror if being completely swept away by the river. But maybe it is actually a fear of something greater, of being alone, of being swept away by life and ending up all by myself in a great lonely lake, trying my best to keep afloat. But how long can I really last by myself?
The next thing I know, Anchor’s pulled me onto the grass by the side of the river. I collapse into a heap and Anchor’s beside me. Dave’s here, standing over us, leaning on his crutches.
“You OK, Allison?” says Anchor.
“I’m fine,” I manage to say, some water bubbling up out of my mouth as I speak.
The feeling is strange—the sun is shining and I rejoice in its warmth, even though I’m still soaking wet. The grass feels cool and comforting.
“Could you give us a minute, Dave?” says Anchor, looking up at Dave.
“Sure, of course,” says Dave, who seems a little unsteady on his feet. I’ve forgotten for a moment that they’d been drinking heavily since the early morning.
Dave ambles away on his crutches towards a large willow tree.
“Aren’t you drunk?” I say.
“I was, but I have a high metabolism,” says Anchor, giving me a wink. “What the hell happened? Dave and I heard someone crying out for help, and I didn’t even realize it was you until I grabbed you.”
“You mean you weren’t just trying to save me?”
“Well, if it was someone else, would you have wanted them to drown?”
“I guess not,” I say. “I’m glad you saved me.” It seems like a stupid thing to say, but right now I don’t have the energy to say the things I want to say. It’s amazing to me how quickly the tension between us has dissipated. There’s still a little…something, but I wouldn’t call it tension.
“What were you two doing down by the river?”
“Well, we were pretty buzzed, and I somehow convinced Dave that we should steal a bunch of old rail road tracks and sell them for scrap metal. Just a stupid drunk plan.”
“Sure sounds like it. Are there even any tracks left?”
“Yeah, we got one almost completely up from the ground. But it’s probably good you interrupted us, because it had all these official warnings on it about stealing railroad tracks. I guess it’s a federal offense or something.”
“It is,” I say. “Hey, could you take me back to my dorm room?”
“What? You don’t want to come back to the swim house?” Anchor obviously thinks this is one of the funniest things he’s ever said, since he can barely contain his laughter.
“You know as well as I do it’s a disgusting filthy place, full of animals. It’s not a place to recover in.”
“I guess it’s not,” says Anchor, feigning a serious air.
He helps me to my feet, and I put my arm around his shoulder. He puts his muscular arm around me, grabbing me on the side. His strength makes me feel secure and safe, even though there’s no reason to fear falling into the river now. Maybe the incident really did mean someth
ing more to me—now that I’m with Anchor, the fears of being alone are swirling away into nothingness.
“What about Dave?” I say.
“He’ll be fine on his own,” says Anchor, lifting up his other hand to give Dave a wave.
Dave waves back with his crutch, still somewhat unsteady on his feet.
“Poor bastard can’t really handle drinking in the morning,” says Anchor.
We get back to my dorm room, and Anchor strips me naked and puts me in bed, putting my big comforter up around me.
“Do you need some tea or something?” he says.
“I just need you to come cuddle with me,” I say.
“Of course,” says Anchor, pretending that he’s tipping an imaginary hat to me. “Would the lady prefer the gentleman clothed or unclothed?”
“I think you’re still a little drunk,” I say.
“If there’s anything that could completely sober me up it’s rescuing you from a rushing river. I still can’t believe that happened. How the hell did you fall in?”
“I guess it just happened,” I say. “But to answer your question, I think you should take off your clothes too. You’re soaking wet.”
“I’d completely forgotten,” says Anchor, taking a look at his own clothes. He’s dripping water onto the cheap corrugated carpet.
He pulls off his shirt over his head, and I take a peek at his abdominal muscles and the way they move together, supporting the rest of his massive musculature. His shoulders are broad and strong. I’ve certainly noticed his muscles before, but never exactly in this way. I feel even more connected to his body now that he’s used it to rescue me, even more than when we were having sex.
He undoes his belt, and pulls down some old jeans he’s wearing.
He runs towards the bed, pretending he’s diving into the water, and jumps onto the mattress, landing right beside me. The old campus mattress springs make a horrendous creaking noise with the addition of his weight.
“I’ve never understood these old mattresses,” says Anchor. “Why do they make them so fucking long? Have you ever noticed they’re about three feet longer than regular mattresses?”
“You really know how to charm a damsel in distress after rescuing her,” I say.
“But haven’t you noticed it?” says Anchor, acting as if it’s the most important thing in the world right now.
“I think it’s because they know the students are going to be fucking like rabbits all the time, and they need the extra space for whatever extravagant positions and postures the students want to try. It’s an experimentation phase, you know, or at least that’s what the college administration probably thinks.”
“Interesting analysis,” says Anchor, running his hand slowly and gently all along my body, from my neck all the way down to my thigh. He starts running his hand up again, towards my neck, and this time he takes a detour around my belly and my chest, just barely avoiding my naked breasts, which his wrist just happens to briefly contact.
Now we’re kissing all of a sudden, and his mouth feels hot as it connects with mine. It’s a comforting warmth.
I can tell something’s different this time. Right now this isn’t about just fucking. It’s about something more. It’s about really connecting.
“Were you serious when you said you loved me?” I say, pulling my mouth away from his for a moment, and opening my eyes to look into his deep blue eyes, which are already open.
“Of course,” he says. “I love you. Were you serious?”
“Yes,” I say. “And I still love you.” But inside, I know this isn’t quite true, but I can’t bring myself to say it. What I mean to say is that I know I love Anchor right now, but I’m not so sure now that I did actually love him when I first said it to him. It’s just that right now, my feelings for Anchor are so much more intense than they were before, that I don’t know if I can call what I felt before real love. But how was I to know, having, at that point, never felt anything stronger?
21
Anchor
I’ve never felt anything like this. It feels like real love, true love, whatever you want to call it.
Our bodies are pressed together, completely naked.
Normally, I’ve never been a big fan of foreplay. I always considered it just a chore that I (sometimes) need to do in order to get the chick hot and ready to fuck. It was just something to get her wet enough for my cock.
But this time with Allison it’s completely different. And I mean completely!
It’s like our souls are merging. I can’t believe I’m even thinking these words to myself, but that’s exactly what it feels like. There isn’t a better feeling in the world, and as the foreplay continues, I don’t feel any need to cut it short and simply stab her with my cock.
But eventually it does get to the point where we’re both feeling the aching too strongly, and we need to simply fuck.
This is a much different session, though. I’ve sure fucked a lot of women in my time, but I realize now I’ve never made love. And this is what we’re doing: making love.
Our mutual anger has long dropped away. I was starting to feel differently anyway, before rescuing Allison from the river. I was starting to realize, while fooling around drunk with Dave on those railroad tracks, that there really wasn’t anything to be angry about. It wasn’t Allison’s fault that I got benched. It’s my own fault. I mean, what could I have expected, behaving the way I have all these years? I’ve always looked at Coach as my enemy, rather than someone who I need to do my best to please, someone I need to work with, to make myself into the best swimmer possible.
Even though swimming has always been my life, I’ve never really taken it seriously. But I guess I never realized that viscerally until I saved Allison from the river.
My cock is inside her. I slipped the condom on only moments ago.
She’s moaning underneath me, and I’m rocking back and forth on top of her, thrusting slowly and meaningfully. These aren’t the vicious, powerful thrusts I usually use. Somehow, they seem imbued with all the feelings I can’t convey with words.
She bites my ear just slightly, as she arches her back. This movement changes the pressure around my cock and it feels wonderful.
I’m caressing her as I’ve never caressed anyone. I’ve always been somewhat proud of my technique, but I have to admit that I’m just realizing I’ve never really done that much with my hands. I’ve always thought everything was all cock and thrusting, and, it’s true, I did get a lot of girls off like that. But now, my hands feel like they are being magnetically drawn to her body, gently touching her all over.
It feels like I’ve entered a new phase of sexual understanding, the way my hands are moving around her breasts, rubbing her nipples together simultaneously, and pushing her breasts together as I cup one in each hand. In reality, it’s the connection that we have that’s pushing me to new levels of technique.
We both last about twenty minutes. This is longer than I’ve ever lasted without coming, even when edging during masturbation, trying intently hard not to come. It’s not that the sex isn’t hot. No, it’s the opposite. It’s beyond hot. It’s a new level of sex, something I’ve never felt before. But the urgent desire to simply blow my load isn’t there, and I guess it’s not there for Allison either.
“I’m coming,” she finally says, beginning to moan and squeal.
She’s going to let everyone in the dorm know that we’re making love, but I don’t care in the least bit. After all, everyone on the team already knows that I’m hooking up with her.
As I’m coming, I suddenly have a thought: if everyone on the team knows, then surely Allison’s’ professor mentor is going to know too, and isn’t she supposed to be staying away from me?
Shit. But I can’t worry about it now. I’m coming, like I’ve never come before. The pleasure isn’t just in my cock like it normally is, but coming up through my chest. There’s an intensely warm feeling around my solar
plexus, and it feels like it’s radiating not just up, but out in front of me, connecting with Allison in a way that I can’t with just words.
We lie here together in her bed, completely naked, cuddling. I surreptitiously take the condom off, tie it up, and throw it in the trash.
“I’ve never felt so close to anyone before,” says Allison, barely above a whisper. She’s so close to me she barely needs to speak at all for me to hear her.
“You stole the words right out of my mouth,” I say.
“Yeah?” she says. The sarcasm and joking are completely gone. There’s nothing left underneath but beautiful sincerity.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say. “You know that, don’t you?”
She pushes her hair back around her ear. “Tell me that again,” she says. But it’s not the joking tone she used to use.
“You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, seen, or slept with, let alone fallen in love with.”
“You’ve fallen in love a lot?” I can hear a hint of worry in her voice.
“Just once,” I say.
“Oh?” she says, already sounding hurt. “With who?”
“With you!” I say, moving even closer to her, and cupping her breast with my hand, then running my other hand gently across her silky smooth skin that feels so perfect and beautiful.
“How’d you learn to be so sweet?” she says.
“I couldn’t do it before. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve always had a little bit of… well, I’ve always been a bit of a cocky asshole.”
“No!” she says. There’s that sarcasm coming back, but it’s gentler this time, and nicer.
“I think you taught me how to open myself up a little,” I say. “You know, there’s always been something more underneath this mask I wear, this emotional armor. And you’ve pulled it out of me. Only you could do it. I don’t think anyone else… no one else in the world could do what you’ve done.”
“Oh, Anchor,” she says, cupping the side of my face gently with her hand and leaning in slowly and kissing me in the lightest but sweetest kiss I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving.
Filthy Royal Page 30
