3 comments/ 17637 views/ 2 favorites A Drowning By: adrianhayter She walked straight down the middle of the long pier, ignoring the yells of the fat man running behind her. The girl was winning the race when another figure stepped in front of her. "Sorry Missy but I can not let you go," he said, "The fat man will fire me for sure." He lowered his eyes, looking down at his bare feet, adding, "¿usted entiende que no es nada personal?" Standing in the middle of the walkway, arms crossed legs spread apart, he was not going to let her escape. Washing and polishing the gringo's boats was the best job he'd had. The girl never broke her stride, only said, "Sure Manuel, it's nothing personal." With that she grabbed the collars of his worn shirt, and brought her knee up into his groin with more force than her slight build should have allowed. Maintaining her grip on his shirt, she pulled him forward, off balance, then pushed his rigid body off the pier. She hesitated only long enough to see his head bob to the surface. "You damn bitch," the fat man screamed behind her, as he steadied his bulk against a piling, gulping in the humid air. "You owe me," he yelled again. Walking faster now, she turned her head just enough to acknowledge the man's pleas, shouting, "I paid you, you SOB, we're even." The fat man's head slumped, sweat from his forehead, dripping on the wooden planks. Along with owning the docks, the fat man was the loan shark to every fisherman and gringo boat bum down on his luck. Everybody owed the fat man something, so she knew it wouldn't be long before his buddies showed. She had paid him for the repairs, much more than they were worth, but he had always wanted more. The girl glanced across the tiny cove; she saw a group of men, wildly pointing at her, as they boarded a small trawler. One man was throwing off the tender lines when a couple of puffs from the diesel stack told her they were getting underway. "Shit," she thought, "I've got to move my ass." With another hundred yards to her moored cat, the young woman kicked into a sprint. If the fat man had finished the promised work, she might have a chance to escape. She knew that with the tide out, it would be impossible for the trawler to cross the sandbar, with much speed anyway. On the other hand, her catamaran could handle as little as eighteen inches under the twin hulls, and was very fast; the girl might still make it out. She leaped the last eight feet off the rotted planks, landing hard in the cockpit, and began tearing off the mainsail ties. As the big sail fell loose, the girl cranked the winch with all her strength, hiking the bellowing Dacron taut. The cat leaped forward in the fifteen-knot wind when the mooring lines brought it to a stop. This is where I enter the story. I was one of those boat bums down on his luck, working off a never-ending debt to the fat man. I'd reached this broken down Mexican harbor three-month earlier with a blown head gasket and a crippled ketch. Several years of gales, thunderstorms, and disrepair had the old girl leaking so badly that I had to bale her hour by hour. With nothing else to do, on the evening high tide, I sailed the ketch onto the beach, laid her on her side, and went looking for help. That's when I met the fat man. Over a few beers, he convinced me he could get the parts for the diesel, all I had to do in return was work off the debt in his yard. Since I was good around boats and money was tight, his plan was my only option. As the weeks past, I realized the fat man was not anxious for my departure. The parts always seemed to be just a few more days away. After two months of working in the dank holes of countless fishing trawlers, I had the inevitable face to face one evening. "Pardon me, Don Marujjo, would you know when my boat parts will arrive?" I asked, showing the respect he demanded from all his underlings. The fat man turned, faced me, trying to place my face with my debt, and finally answered, "Ah Senõr, you know, these things take time. I was sure they would be on the bus today-maybe tomorrow." He stiffened when I didn't nod then added, "You know you cost me a lot of money. There's the room, the food, all the beer, yet I've been very generous to you." Without a clear idea of how to extradite myself, I rushed on, "Senõr, I live in the back of the tool shed; the shrimpers and trawlers give me their culls; what little I drink is earned from sweeping the bar." My rage building, I blurted out, "You pay me nothing, and I doubt the parts are ever coming." Ignoring my outburst, the fat man looked up, squinting in the glare of the sun, and questioned, "When do you have time to sweep the bar? You're supposed to be working for me. If you have that much time on your hands, maybe you're not working hard enough. How do you expect me to buy expensive parts for your boat when you slack off?" Then he added, "Maybe you need to get back to work before I forget my generosity. Finish the work on that girl's catamaran." I was below, hooking up a wiring harness on the cat's engine when I heard a thud, then frantic movements above. The boat started to accelerate, then came to an abrupt halt. The sudden impact sent me sprawling over the motor, striking my head against the bulkhead. "What the hell is going on?" I yelled, feeling the knot on my forehead growing. The girl heard the commotion below but had other things on her mind. The lines were straining at the cleats, taut from the pressure of the wind in the sail. She leaped to the stern, cut the mooring, then scrambled forward to server the bow line. As the last threads of the nylon rope parted, the cat leaped forward, again knocking the man onto his back. The girl kicked the wheel over enough to clear the piers, then started wincing the large foresail. The Ginny caught the wind, and the cat accelerated. The woman looked over at where she thought the trawler would be and was surprised to find it past the shoal, making steady progress to cut off her escape. To save her lead, she recklessly wove through the anchor rode where a dozen shrimp boats were sitting, barely missing their buoys, and ignoring the curses the fishermen yelled. The trawler had reached the cut, and was turning to block the entrance when the two boats met. The large boat's crew was sure she would turn to avoid the collision, after all, she was only a little gringo girl. They stared in disbelief when the woman slammed the wheel over at the last possible moment, brought in the mainsail tight to the wind, forcing the cat's starboard hull out of the water. The catamaran's cables were shrieking from the strain as the two boats closed for the inevitable collision. Then the aluminum skin of the sailboat's hull, now four feet above the water, screeched and tore along the side of the trawler's rigging as they flew by at eighteen knots. Then it was over. The twin-hulled craft settled back on its keels, passed through the breakwater, and out into the immunity of the Gulf. Picking myself up from the floor, I examined the bleeding cut on my knee. I had no idea who was in charge of this ride but I was bruised, sore, and very mad. Placing both hands on the edge of the hatch, I lifted myself above the cabin, demanding, "What the hell is going on?" to no one in particular until I looked back, seeing her. She stood with both hands on the wheel, her small knuckles white from the pressure. The wind was blowing her sun-bleached hair, the strands partially covering the side of her face. I knew who she was; everyone at the docks knew. She was the only woman around who could make the fat man stop eating and look. I had been too shy, I could not even nod, but I had always watched her as she passed. She turned her head, facing into the wind, allowing the flat curls to blow clear of her eyes, then said, "What are you doing on my boat? You've got five seconds to jump or I'll throw you over." I looked into her face long enough to know she was deadly serious, then looked past her shoulder at the rapidly receding headland. "I don't know if you're some nut case or what, but I'm the guy who was fixing your boat. Anyway, I'm not much of a long distance swimmer. I'm not going anyplace," I simply explained. To hold the course, the girl slowly looped a line around the wheel, and looked at me. "I hope for your sake, you're a fast learner," she said. With that, she moved around the wheel, heading directly toward me. Her anger telegraphed her every move. I watched her eyes, and when she was within distance, she turned, and kicked where my head had been. I caught her foot with both hands, twisted her leg around, forcing her face to the deck. She screamed from the pain. Ignoring her yells, I knelt on her back and forced her arms above her head. She cried out, "Stop, you're hurting me!" I paused when I recognize I was on autopilot, operating on instinct only. I had never hurt a woman in my life; here I was, on top of this girl, prepared to stop her regardless. I raised my knee to relieve the pressure from her back, quickly released her arms, blurting out, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you... It's just... I'm serious about the swimming. I'd drown if I had to make the shore from here." She lay still for a moment, and then turned over, her tangled hair twisting behind. She looked into my face but telegraphed nothing as her fist hit my throat with blinding speed. I was blacking out, waves of nausea causing me to choke. The girl crawled from under my paralyzed form, grabbed my arms, and started to drag me to the railing. As she pulled me forward, she screamed, "You piece of shit, I know you're one of the fat man's flunkies. I'm not going back there! I'm not going to be one of his whores!" She released my arms, began to roll me under the rail netting, then hesitated. Laying on the edge, gulping for breath, I squinted at the green foam sliding by the hull when my free hand touched the winch handle. I clutched the eight-pound piece of steel, ready to swing blindly at her head with what strength remained. Then, she pulled my limp frame back into the cockpit. Her long legs collapsed as she fell into a heap at the base of the wheel pedestal, sobbing uncontrollably. With a huge effort, I raised myself onto an elbow, watching the shaking figure. "For what's it's worth, I'm nobody's flunky," I gasped. "I got into the same mess you did, broken boat, little money... 'Course, my plans didn't include drowning anyone on the way out," I said. Between her sobs, the beginning of a faint smile appeared on her lips. She looked up at my face. I saw her desperate need for trust. She finally raised herself and sat with her back against the pedestal, knees to her chin, arms tightly twined around her legs, and asked, "Are you alright?" Her tear-streaked face couldn't conceal the stark beauty. "Sure, I'm fine," I answered. In twelve years of mixing it up in every kind of backwater, no one had laid me out like that. She didn't need to know. "Good," she said, as she turned to the immediate duties at hand. "Then jump down in the starboard hull to check for water. We both may be swimming if I holed her." She swung to her feet, brought in the small tri-sail sheet, getting the last knot of speed out of the cat, never doubting whether I was following her command. With the boat running this fast, close to the wind, in a three-foot chop, my passage across the hull was dangerous. I thought for an instant, 'Maybe she's still trying to buck me off.' I looked back to see her standing tall, gazing straight ahead, scanning the horizon for her own demons. I didn't seem to be one of those demons, at the moment anyway. Her long hair again covered the side of her face, concealing her eyes from my stare. The top buttons on her blouse had torn in our brief struggle. The outline of a firm breast was clearly visible. She had her chance to toss me; something had stopped her. I shook my head, and then ducked through the hatch to survey the damage. The hull's aluminum skin showed signs of the heavy impact but was still holding tight. Raising my head, I shouted, "She's dry," then struggled back into the cockpit. "You have a couple of good dings in her, though. Where'd you learn to drive?" With only a slight frown, she said, "I had some uninvited company earlier. I didn't feel like taking guest right then." As I steadied myself with one hand on the back cable, a large quarter-beam wave hit the boat. I quickly placed my other hand on her shoulder to keep from being thrown across the deck. I could feel the firmness of her muscles through the thin cotton. I was momentarily afraid that, like some wild untamed creature, she would jump away from my grasp but she accepted my touch, continuing to stare at the horizon. The strong currents of air moved her hair back and forth across my arm. I watched her as I always had, from behind. The auburn strands were bleached from the elements to a soft golden tan. The wind exposed the back of her neck, and when the wind had mercy, the locks flowed along her back, ending at the dimples of her waist. Dimples gave way to an almost girlish bottom, but devoid of anything but muscles. To compensate for the constant movement of the boat she captained, her slender legs were spread, always in motion, shifting with her hips to remain rock steady. There was an overpowering need to raise my hand to her slender neck, caress her throat, but my hand remained fixed to her shoulder. "Listen," she finally said, "I need to get down the coast quickly, but there's a little village called San Carlos about seventy miles south. There's a weekly bus service there heading north that will get you back to the harbor. I'm sorry for bringing you into this." Turning to face me, she said, "It's all I can do, for now." Her eyes searched mine for some kind of understanding. I quickly turned my head away, looking for anything on the horizon, anything to avoid those sharp green eyes. "It's not like you kidnapped me," I confessed. "This is probably for the best. There's not much need for me to go back. I've known for some time now that I would never see my boat seaworthy again. Somehow or another, the fat man will believe I helped you escape. Problem is, I can't just run around Mexico without documents. If I can hitch a ride with you to Mazatlan, I can find an American Consular there who may issue a new passport." I said. Turning forward, she said, "I can get you to Mazatlan. It'll be good to have some help on the night passages." Her slim fingers massaged the bruise on her neck, the bruise I had caused. "Now get some sleep, you'll need to relieve me at 0300. Take the quarter bunk," she instructed, then added, laughing, "That is, if you can put up with the nut case?" Even before my head hit the cushions, I was asleep. I awoke from some noise, disturbed, disorientated, and with a sliver of the moon shining through the starboard port. I rubbed my neck, and then remembered what had happened. The boat was in calm water, slowly swinging at anchor, which didn't make sense. When I crashed earlier, the cat was starting a fast night passage in four-foot breakers, taking a beating for every foot she made. In the pale light, I looked over at the bulkhead chronometer. It showed a little past 0300. Climbing through the hatch, I saw a figure on the stern swim platform. "Care to take a swim?" she asked. The soft light of the moon, just rising from the water, displayed her naked form. She had grasped the boom, as high as she could reach, stretching her full length, her firm breasts uplifted in the night air. Through years of cruising, she exhibited little of the conventional modesty familiar to polite places. I knew she was comfortable, clothed or not. Moreover, her body was not remarkable in any classical sense; the skin had been toughened by the hot tropical winds, and numerous small scares, from mishaps aboard, showed clearly on her limbs. Two things stirred me as I gazed at her form, though: The slenderness of her waist stressed the curvature of the lush moist mound, demanding investigation-exploration; and finally, there was the bottomless depth of her eyes. In the daylight, they sparkled green, indifferent to the sun; but now, in the weak moonlight, the color had gone, only to be replaced with an abyss of mystery. Confused, I stuttered, "What about my 0300 watch and.... Where are we?" My head continued to need reason, but a warm glow had started in my groin, as I watched her body sway from the movement of the boat. "I was exhausted and it didn't look like I would ever wake you," she said, "I've been in this little cove before. The shrimpers use it to anchor, sleeping during the day but there is nobody here tonight. We're about twenty miles south of San Carlos," She added, asking again, "Now, how about that swim?" "Sure, I could use a swim, my neck is still sore from this afternoon," I answered. With my unintentional slip, she laughed, then dove cleanly off the platform into the warm gulf. The water luminesced around her skin as she broke through the surface, then she was gone. I removed my shorts and shirt, waiting for her to appear again. After what seemed too long, a doubt arose that she might have dived into a shallow area and be in trouble. I first hesitated, then jumped over the railing, feet together, and sank straight to the bottom. As soon as my foot touched the soft sand, I kicked, trying to break the surface quickly. I felt her arms circling my chest, her breasts pressing tightly into my back; our bodies rose together, her mouth close to my ear. Surfacing, she took a long breath, giggled softly, and said, "You weren't kidding about not being a swimmer. How can you be a blue water sailor who can't swim?" she asked. She continued to hold me tightly; she was treading water for both of us. "I can swim, I just tend to sink more than most; maybe it has something to do with buoyancy," I said. "Besides, I thought you were drowning, you didn't come up for a long time." Her lips just touched my ear, she whispered, "Oh, that's sweet, you were trying to save me. Nevertheless, buoyancy has nothing to do with it, love; you just need to relax. Let me show you." She then moved her hands to my back, slowly lifting me closer to the surface. "Now, lay your head back and..." She stopped in mid sentence as my hardened cock broke the surface. "My God, that thing would sink anybody," she laughed. "Maybe both of us would be safer on the boat." Grabbing my hand, she swam toward the bow of the cat where the trampoline was closest to the water. Clutching the edge of the netting, she swung herself up. "Here, give me your hand, I'll help you." She said. For someone so slim, I was amazed at her seemingly effortless strength. I had one leg up and started to lift myself out of the water when she seized my hip and rolled me over, the soft netting cradling my back. There was only a quiet moment as I looked into her face, seeing the demanding hunger. Then she was on top of me, crushing my mouth with her lips, forcing my hands back onto the netting, her hips grinding into my body. She brought her legs up, knelt on her knees, crushing her mound into my cock. I forced her hands from mine, grasped her hips, guiding her over the head of my cock. When the head had just touched the sweet wet area between her lips, I drove my hips upward, pulling her down hard. She screamed but I continued pumping cruelly, forcing myself deeper. Her fingernails were clawing at my chest, her breathing coming in gulps, when she stiffened, a low moan coming from the back of her throat. Her head collapsed onto the netting, her mouth pressing against my throat. I could feel her heart pounding on my chest; hear her short sweet gasps of breath . After some time, she whispered, "Did you cum, love?" I remained still, enjoying the feel of my engorged cock in her. I was relishing the weight of her hips on my abdomen, feeling her chest rising and falling over me. "Not yet," I answered. A Drowning: The Sequel This is a sequel to A Drowning. Enjoy. The original story can be found at: http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=297115 * During the early morning hours, they had kept warm under the frayed fabric. Crafted from the thinnest of nylon cloth, the sail now softly outlined her body, exposing only the rusty strands of hair. The pair had mimicked an old married couple, fighting for custody of the sparse blanket, her long limbs finally winning the struggle before sunrise. They slept, coiled together, between the twin hulls, until the sound of fish darting on the water's surface, had fragmented the morning air. He looked over the side, watching the small shapes hurrying for shelter. As he stirred, she awoke, holding him tighter against her breasts "Good morning love," she said, stifling a yawn, and bringing her knees up into his bottom, "How long have you been awake?" "Just now-something's disturbing the wildlife. The sound woke me." I answered, as I rose, clearly seeing the water. She turned over on her side, wiping the night from her eyes, and following my gaze, she burst out, "Look, they're dolphins; they must have come into the cove this morning to hunt. They're beautiful." The pod circled the catamaran, tracking the small silver fish that had taken refuge under the boat. Twisting and leaping when the prey presented an opportunity; producing excited chirps and squeals that echoed off the metal hulls. The girl crawled to the side of the boat. "Listen," she erupted, "They're talking to us." "What a romantic, I've hooked up with," I complained. "And even if they wanted to speak to us, what would they be saying?" "I think they would be saying that this cove is wonderful, that you're handsome, and that I shouldn't let you go, ever." she answered, sitting upright looking into my face, more serious now, she questioned, "Do you think we've hooked up?" "I don't know what else to do. I can't very well let a girl who listens to fish go wandering the sea. However, believe me, the fish lie, or at the least, they need a good optometrist. Have you really looked at my face?" I asked, laughing from the easy silliness between us. She pushed me hard to the edge of the rub rail, giggling at the image of dolphins wearing bi-focals. She placed her sweet hand on my face, outlining the edges of my broken nose, tracing the scares along my chin, the roughness of her hand mirroring the lines in my skin. "Stop calling them fish, you know they're magnificent mammals, and I think they see just fine," she said, smiling as she pulled my mouth toward her lips, searching with her tongue for the center of fire. We kissed until breathless, and only then, pulled apart. Her face was flush with excitement, her breath coming in gasps. I forced her body back onto the netting. I leaned over and placed the lightest of a kiss on the hollow of her throat. She responded by lifting her chin, further exposing the sensitive flesh. Another kiss followed, lower on the divide of her breasts. Causing the long auburn strands of her hair to flail, partially concealing her face. She flung her head to the side, breath exploding from her clenched lips. I delayed exploring the taut breasts, selfishly hurrying, to reach the darkness hidden below. Employing what little restraint remaining, the next kiss was placed on her firm belly, only inches from the soft mound of hair that drove my search. Her hands closed around my head, impatiently encouraging and even forcing me lower. The last kiss was placed on the core of her femininity, the moist fragrant target of my lust. Without a need to guide me further, she removed her hands and grabbed the netting above her head. Her fingers intermeshed with the ropes, readying to thrust her hips forward. My tongue explored her damp slit, touching the softness of the lips; first circling the insides, then probing deeper, always searching for the point of no return. As the tip of my probe touched her swollen clit, her body arched, and she screamed garbled obscenities and broken pronouncements of lewdness that ignited my lust even further. I rose from the sweetness, spread her knees apart, and guided my cock toward her moist hole when a sheet of water drenched us, extinguishing our passion, and shocking us back to reality. Soaked, I turned to see a large dolphin leaping in the air, applauding himself at the joke. I envied his effortless passage through the water. I hated him for the wet interruption. "I've got some opposition," I complained, frustrated, as my shaft withered. I watched the dolphin break the surface again, throwing additional gallons of water into the air. Determined to continue our coupling, yet still breathing with some difficulty, she uttered, "Let's swim to the beach, at least, it'll be quieter. Besides, there's something I want to show you." Still shaking from the excitement, she grabbed my hand, and prepared to dive from the bow. I hesitated, holding her arm, looking at the distant beach. She looked back at my face and giggled, "You're not worried about your competition, are you?" I continued to scan the shore, measuring the distance. She realized I wasn't smiling, paused, then offered, "Let me break out the dink. We'll motor over. It'll be like an afternoon on a summer-time lake." "No, it's fine, we'll swim," I answered, with more assurance in my voice than I felt. As we prepared to make the leap, I stopped her again and said, "Love, stay close." "I will," she swore. As we dived into the clear warm water, a throng of silvery-gray shapes darted away from us in every direction. Before I realized that the dolphins had deserted us, my head broke the surface, and I swam. I had total focus on the distant beach; a goal that appeared tiny on my horizon. Something touched my shoulder and I turned to see her gliding, with little exertion, close to me. She was on her side, moving her limbs slowly as I battled with the water. Avoiding my thrashing arms, she carefully rolled me onto my flank, speaking as we swam, "Relax. Let the water carry you, support you. You're treating it as an enemy." My flailing lessened as her words calmed me. "Much better. Now, I want you to roll over on your tummy as you swim, open your eyes, and watch the bottom. I'll be here, next to you," she instructed. Obeying her, I turned and opened my eyes, staring at the incredible rich tapestry of the coral bottom. I'd seen coral reefs before but always hanging by a tether, usually scrubbing growths off my boat's bottom. Now, floating over this translucent realm, attached to nothing, gently kicking toward the shore, I was lost in the forms and colors below. Concentrating on a small school of bright blue fish, I was startled when her face appeared below me. Gliding beneath, her long auburn hair flowing in the current, she smiled then rose to cover my mouth with hers. She sealed her lips tightly to mine, releasing a stream of air into my lungs, forcing a torrent of bubbles to explode above us. Parting from my lips too quickly, she pointed ahead where I could see the base of breakers underwater cascading on the sand. We had reached the beach. "You where great," she said, climbing out of the water and lying back on the dark sand. "Yea, I didn't sink," I responded, controlling the glow in my chest, and the ridiculous grin ready to smear my face. For the first time, the water had felt great. "This is what I wanted to show you," she said, pointing out the long expanse of beach. "The cliffs behind us are part of an ancient volcano. That's why the beach is almost black. Somehow, feldspar got into the mix so you have all the little sparkles. So much for the geology lesson but on a moonlit night, I've seen this beach shin like the stars in the sky." For all her outward toughness, a child's joy bubbled from her face as she remembered nights anchored in the cove. "Now, you're here to share it with me." She slide closer, inching through the volcanic sand, and laid her head on my shoulder. She touched my chest with her palm. "Do you know how the dolphins mate?" she asked, continuing without expecting an answer, "When I swam under you, the dolphins must have thought we were making love. I think they may have been jealous." She leaned over me and lightly kissed my mouth, lingering, brushing her lips across mine. "Last night, when you tied me down, you threatened to fuck my mouth. I want that" she barely whispered. Over the Sierra Madras, the thunderstorms had continued to build, blocking the sun, and yet, the dark sand still harbored the morning's warmth. Her body slid down, her eyes examining my face, until her mouth was next to my hard shaft. Still watching my face intently, she carefully moved her moist tongue along the backside of my member, lower and lower, until it rested on my sack. The fierce pleasure forced my head back and I closed my lids, enjoying the warmth of both her tongue and the sand. "Do you still want to fuck my mouth?" she whispered hoarsely, slowly moving her lips across my swollen testicles. "Yes, I want to fuck your mouth." I grunted, struggling to get the words out. The sound of rumbling thunder over the mountains barely covered the moans from my throat. The wind had increased, blowing the surf around my feet, the water beginning to cover her legs as she took my cock into her mouth. Her lips closed gently, enclosing the shaft, as her tongue licked the back of the glands, her saliva running down the shaft. My hips involuntary thrusted upward, forcing my cock deeper into her throat. She gagged, then hungrily sucked deeper. The tide pushed higher onto the beach, covering my legs, lapping at my thighs, until finally, as the first ripples of warm sea touched my testicles, my semen exploded into her mouth. She frantically moved her head up and down as my cum spilled from her lips, mixing with the green foam flowing across my belly. She rose, gasping, fighting to fill her lungs, and then dropped her head on to my chest. As the water finally covered my cock, washing all traces of cum back into the sea, a flash lit the beach, then droplets impacted around us; a few small beads at first, then cold angry globs attacked the sand. We ran into the underbrush, huddling together, and watched the storm spread across the cove. Holding her tightly, I said, "It's a chabasso, shouldn't last long. Are you warm enough?" Her head, cradled closely to my chest, nodded softly. As the storm settled, and the wind lessened, a small blue spot appeared through the clouds. She squirmed in my arms, kissed my neck softly and said, "Love, I'm going to swim back to the boat and get us a blanket, a little food, maybe a bottle of wine. I'll bring everything back in the dink. Can you find us some dry firewood? I want to cook you something. I'm feeling domestic." "I'll come with you, "I said. "No, it's alright, just find us some wood. It'll be our first picnic." She insisted, then wadded through the surf, plunged into the water and swam strongly toward the cat. I watched her quickly close the gap, she reached the boat, and swung up to the deck where she entered the cabin. While searching the underbrush for wood, I heard the low noise of a motor. "That was quick," I thought as I hurried back through the thickets, gathering driftwood as I went. I cleared the shrubs, just stepping onto the edge of the beach, expecting to see her motoring back, when I froze and slowly lowered the sticks to the ground. Instead of her silly grin, there was a long metal panga, loaded with men, slowly circling the catamaran. In the bow of the boat, reclining in a broken lounge chair was the fat man. I slid back into the undergrowth, watching the craft. The men in the opened boat continued to circle the cat, laughing, and making obscene gestures with hands on their crouches. I knew there was only one chance for her. I made a leap for the beach, waving my arms as I ran, when I saw her rush from the hatch and dive off the railing, swimming toward the far shore. The men in the panga saw her at the same instant and raced the engine to intercept. With a darkening gloom in my soul, I thought, 'I can't help you now. Why did you try to make the other shore, babe?' I crawled back into the underbrush and watched them hunt her down. I clenched my teeth and swore, 'Stay alive and I'll get you out, no matter what.' The chase was short. Being cautious, no one enter the water to stop her. Instead, heavy loops of rope were thrown at her swimming form until one rope curled around her throat, and they pulled her in, much as they would any trophy. She fought as they brought her aboard, but the fat man ended it quickly with a blow to her head from a heavy fish baton. Then they were gone, leaving only the oily exhaust fumes drifting onto the beach. I needed to cry, scream, or hurt something to ease the helplessness. I was kicking pieces of firewood across the beach and into the water when I smelled something more acrid than the motorboat's exhaust. Looking up and across the cove to where the lone catamaran swung, I saw the first wisp of smoke coming from the cat's cabin. Plunging into the water, I swam with a determination born of grief. "Why didn't I save her?" I cried, "Why didn't I save her?" I had fought most of the way across, when a dark form cast a shadow over my struggling body. "Hey amigo, catch this line, we'll pull you out," A short figure above yelled to me. Several men hauled me onto the deck of their large shrimp trawler. As I was brought aboard, the Captain poured on the diesel, and closed on the burning cat. Looking back at me, he yelled, "Is that not Missie's boat? You know the skinny gringo girl. Is she inside?" he demanded. Coughing saltwater out of my lungs, I gasped, "No, the fat man took her." "That son-of-a-bitch, someone needs to kill him," he spat. The trawler was soon next to the catamaran, allowing the deckhands to jump aboard, and fight the fire. Without regards to his safety, the Captain was first, spraying the flames with an ancient extinguisher, and stomping the remaining embers with the soles of his high fishing boots. Afterwards, gritty with ash, he approached me, demanding the details of the abduction. I told him everything that had happened, confessing my failings in the process. The small man placed his hand on my shoulder and quietly said, "My friend, you did everything you could. But now, you must go after her before the fat man has a chance to..." The Captain didn't finish the sentence, but paused, then added, "The fat man is very bad. He has no respect for women but fears men. That fear is his weakness." With that said, he rose, clapped his hands, demanding the attention of everyone, and began to shout orders. The crew jumped to their assignments, collecting the tools, materials, and equipment necessary to repair the catamaran. By late afternoon, the Captain issued his pronouncement to all of us, "She's not pretty, but she'll still run fast." He put his short arms around me, squeezed me into his chest, and said, "Good luck. May the Virgin Mother protect you." As he released me, he looked toward the west, where a low bank of clouds was building, and said, "Go fast, my friend." The girl's eyes tried to focus on the dull lights, two small points of paleness that swung back and forth. She closed, then reopened her eyes and the points converged to emerge as a single bulb; a blurry naked light bulb hung from the ceiling, she thought. She blinked again but a haze still clouded her vision. Licking her cracked lips, she tasted the salty dried blood that had ran from the top of her head, over her eyes, and finally across her mouth. As she began to cry from the pain, her tears washed the caked blood from her eyes; she could see now but wished she could not. About her lay the trash of a fishing camp. Worn lines coiled around the edges of the shed, crab cages carelessly stacked, and all manner of discarded items filled the voids. There was an intense pain in her shoulders. As she moved to lessen the burning, she discovered her hands bound, wrapped with a course mooring line strongly secured to a rafter. Someone had attempted to tear her blouse off but had only succeeded in forcing it above her shoulders. The tattered blouse hung around her stretched arms. Her shorts lay on top of her feet. As she recognized her nakedness, a greasy voice said, "Ah Missy, you awake?" She raised her head, flinching again from the pain, and recognized the figure of the fat man. He walked toward the girl, hesitated as he neared, then said, "You kick me little whore and I'll knock your head off. You comprehende?" He raised the thick club to her stomach, stained from her blood, and pushed the fat end into her flesh. The girl groaned aloud from the pain, and watched the fat man grin. She closed her mouth, determined not to satisfy him. Disappointed, he lowered the club and pushed it between her legs, forcing the blunt wood in. "You like that little one?" he grunted, his lust to hurt her building. "How 'bout I turn you over and shove it up your little ass?" he demanded. She could not stop the tears, knowing that he could, and would. Finding her weakness, the fat man smiled, when there was a pounding on the shed's door. "Boss, there's some trouble on the dock." A nervous voice said through the door. The fat man turned, angry to be interrupted, and yelled, "What kinda trouble?" "You need to come take a look. There's a bunch of men, fishermen, and captains. They all want to know what you're going to do with the girl. I told them it was none of their business but they won't listen." The boss's man explained. The fat man stormed through the door, irritated at the interruption, livid that anyone would question his actions, and then he saw the crowd. The group had gathered in front of the icehouse, many with arms crossed, others wildly gesturing, all loudly complaining about the owner's unfairness. The boss picked the most vocal and approached him, using his imposing size to quickly silence the man. "Sanches, how is it you have time to loiter around the docks? What happens tomorrow when you need to fish? Do you have fuel or do I loan you more? Maybe you think the little girl will loan you money. Will she take care of you and your family as I have?" The fat man asked, not waiting for an answer as he hastily turned his attention to another fisherman. "You Patrick, when is that payment due on your boat? Oh yes, I remember now", he grinned, "it was due last week." His eyes settled over the crowd. "If you believe the gringo can provide for your families as you catch worthless little crabs from the rocks, without boats, without fuel, by all means, come and take her." He announced, widely opening his massive arms. The group of men fell silent as the fat man continued, "But first look behind you at those black clouds in the west. All of you know what they mean. I think you should worry more about the safety of your boats, your families, and less about a little cunt. My friends, I'm afraid you have bigger things to fight-there's a hurricane on the way." The crowd had ignored the darkening horizon until then. Now, the realization of what could come was forced upon them. First a single person, then small groups, and eventually, almost all in the crowd hurriedly returned to their own concerns, abandoning the woman. All scurried away but one. "Manuel," the fat man sneered, "Haven't you got a boat to clean?" The squat Mexican watched the fat man's face, hating him for what he had done to the woman, but he also turned, and went back to his chores. "Fucking peasants," the boss thought, "Why do I waste my time around these people? I should be in the city with men of class, men like me." The large waves, pursuing the catamaran, had been growing since sunset. No longer seeing the angry broken whitecaps, he could only feel their results, trying to force the cat's bow under the sea. He had more canvas up than was safe and any other day, he would have battened down, deployed the sea anchor and waited out the storm-but this was no other day. The metal rigging screamed from the force of the wind, when, through the dense rain, he recognized the headland's faint beacon. Approaching the cut, he saw the surf breaking over the entrance's shoal, surging twelve feet high; the tops of the waves, packed with broken froth, were being blown apart by the furious wind. Only a fool would try to enter. A Drowning: The Sequel The girl saw the shed's door open allowing the rain to enter in sheets, only adding to what already poured through the rusted metal roof. She heard the fat man returning, but she had a plan. It wasn't a plan of escape, she had accepted her fate much earlier. If she could draw him close enough, she would use her teeth to tear into his flesh, leaving a wound he would carry forever; a scar to show she had fought, not given in. She understood the results of this action; he would kill her for sure but maybe in his rage, he would stop her life quickly. Calmly, she watched the form approach from the shadows. She simply waited. The fishermen had pulled him from the damaged boat, gambling with their lives, and asking nothing in return. It was what was expected of men and they never measured the risk. Gathered around him, all speaking at once, they had anxiously told him about the girl, concealing only the shame for their part in the affair. Seeing her now, he felt an enormous sadness. His heart went cold. He was not sure if she was alive, her hair hanging loose about her face and her chest still. Then her eyes opened the slightest, watching him, as he started to lift her and untie the rope. She winced as his arms closed about her waist. "I'll have you out of here soon, love," He whispered, "and someplace warm where I can take care of you." "You left me," she murmured. He swallowed hard, holding the nauseating guilt in his gut, but continued freeing her hands. There was no justification to be made, no absolution expected from the broken girl. Released, she stumbled to the center of the room and raised her face to a trickle of water, allowing the storm to clean the filth from her body. "We've got to go," I urged, as she carefully washed the blood away, showing an unnatural calmness, a contrast to my frantic motions. "We will, but I still have business here," She said. Selecting a worn and discarded overall from a stack of clothes, she covered herself. I followed her through the door, out into the downpour, my senses heightened, looking in every direction for danger that might threaten as I realized she was headed directly to his office. I pulled her to a stop, grabbing her shoulder and said, "We don't have time for this." She slid from under my grasp, continuing forward as she answered, "There's no other time but now. You taught me that, remember?" The fat man startled as she enter the small room, then relaxed and laughed, "You've come visiting me, and on such a stormy night. Couldn't you wait or did the thought of my cock in your little ass excite you too much. You know, it's too bad. If you had been my woman, I would have dressed you in silks, not the oily rags you wear now but it was your choice," he continued, taunting her, stopping only as I entered the room. "Ah, it's my gringo friend, the thief, the hombre who refuses my generosity," He said, placing his beefy hands on the desk's edge, glancing through the window, and only slightly concerned about further intrusions. "Yeah, I've been really hot for you," she grinned as she pulled the sharp steel hook from under her overalls, brought it down with all her weight, the point penetrating muscle and bone, and pinning the hand to the wooden desk. The fat man screamed as his blood flowed across the ledgers. He grabbed the shaft of the hook, struggling to release his hand, only intensifying the pain. The thick barb had passed through both his hand and the wood. The girl, now strangely detached from the suffering she had caused, looked around the room. Her eyes temporarily rested on the old file boxes sitting in a corner of the small office, then continued to hunt for something else. Seeing her attention focused elsewhere, the fat man, his face drained from the fear and pain, cried, "You bitch, what are you going to do?" "As soon as I can find a dull knife, I'm going to cut your balls off," she answered, not with a rage in her voice but a coldness that forced me, involuntarily, to place a hand over my crotch. Her search ended as she saw the can of lantern kerosene stored on the shelf. She raised the can, shaking it to assure herself it was full, then looked back at me and said, "I've brought you into something else that's not your business. You should leave." She walked toward the fat man, unscrewing the cap from the can, watching the man's eyes broaden as she raised the container and prepared to pour the volatile fluid over his head. His mouth opened and he screamed for mercy as she looked down at him. He begged her to not kill him, pleading, tears running down his face. Lowering the still full container, she hesitated, then turned, walked to the corner, and began covering the file cases with the liquid. Only partially emptying the can, she returned to the desk and set the container down, then asked, "You smoke fat man?" The fat man, shaking uncontrollably, could only stare, back and forth, first at her and then at the can, as she turned to me and said, "Since you're still here, find me a match." I had not moved; frozen to a tiny spot, watching this horror unfold from a woman I might love. I barely understood her question, and was startled to be included in the terror. I blurted out, "I don't smoke," as I patted my drenched shirt pockets to prove my sincerity "Well fuck," She said, "Nobody smokes. You want to live forever?" Frustrated, she leaned down, opened a drawer in the desk, and smiled as she brought out a lighter. Upon seeing the lighter in her hand, the fat man's crying intensified. Curious, she brought her face close to his, carefully examining the dirty folds of fat, and asked, "Still want to shove your little wienie up my ass?" With that, she clicked the case open, spun the wheel with her finger, and watched the spark ignite the wick. Assured that the flame burned strongly, she tossed the lighter into the corner. "We can go now," She told me, walking toward the door as the file cases ignited. Speechless, I followed her out of the office, down the pier, glancing back only to see the fat man at the door of the burning building. He was carrying the large desk, still attached to his hand and struggling to push the desk and himself through the frame. Flames outlined his form. As we hurried in our escape, I yelled through the rain, "Thank God, I thought you were going to neuter him." "I did," She said, "I burned his contracts and all his loan records. He doesn't own anyone now." We sailed across the shoal that night in a battered boat, making good time in the disturbed seas. She had been quiet for the last hundred miles, refusing my nursing, and keeping her thoughts private. I longed to be included but knew it was best not to interfere. "It's your watch, love, but don't hurry. I've turned the autohelm on," I said, climbing down into the galley where she sat, absorbed in stirring the last dregs of the thick coffee. "I'm ready," She answered. In the narrow passageway, we turned sideways to squeeze by each other, pressing our backs tight to the lockers to make room. For one moment, our bodies crushed together in the tight confines. With a tense smile, she said, "I'm sorry." With my mouth inches from her lips, I answered, "I'm not. If this is the only way you'll let me get close to you, then I'll have to be satisfied with these chance meetings." With an unexpected quickness, her mouth covered mine, and pushed my head against the lockers, the brunt force of her hunger startling me. Her hands tore at my sweater and her fingers clawed to reach the flesh. Unable to rip through the knit seams, she lifted the material from my chest, forcing her mouth on to my nipples, biting and sucking with such force, that I had to pull her head back. Her mouth, now constrained by my grip, cried in frustration as she attacked her insatiable appetite with only her hands. They drove through my waistband, pressed hard around my cock, and cupped the engorged member, fingers tightening on the hardness. Unwilling to release her to suffer further attacks to my chest, I threw her to the bunk where she lay, gasping, glaring up at me. "Fuck me," She hissed her mouth dry from the exertion. I watched her prone figure as she tore garments from her body, ignoring buttons, zippers, rejecting anything that would slow her release. Then, unfettered from any barriers, she spread her legs as wide as the confines of the bunk would allow and began slowly rubbing her slit, still staring up, watching my face. I stood and removed my clothes as her fingers moved faster, lubricated from her wetness, now dampening the sheet. I knelt between her thighs, cupped her breasts, and kneaded the erect nipples. She forced my hands away and placed them on the large brass rod attached under the low ceiling, positioning them until I understood-I gripped the metal and supported myself, set to drive hard into her. Free from my weight, she scrunched down until the tip of my cock rested on her crevasse's entrance. I tightened the muscles in my back, ready to thrust deep into her when she stopped my advance by placing her hands firmly on my hips. Controlling my lust with her arms, she slowly slid further, her clit just touching my gland, and finally deeper until her wetness barely engulfed the head of my shaft. Our hips trembled from the restraint, the vibrations carried to my cock as a low sound issued from the back of her throat. Looking down into her face, I saw the redness spreading from her cheeks, to the hollow of her neck, and down to her breasts. Her eyelids darkened an angry blue; she drew in small broken gasps of air across her dry lips, which now were tight against her teeth. She released my hips and brought her hands up to my wrists, curling her fingers tight, her fingernails digging deep into my flesh, and gasped only a single word, "Now!" The word triggered some animal instinct older than time. Denied no longer, I lunged into her, forcing the swollen head deeper and deeper. Every muscle in my body, from my shoulders to my legs, exploded with energy, releasing their tension. My hips pounded, again and again into the girl as her long legs flailed across the bunk from the impacts. She tried to bring her legs up and around my waist to pull me tighter but it was useless-she had lost control of both tendons and sinew under the repeated concussions. She was also losing something else, something vital to her. Her mind's connections, misfiring from the assault, screamed the obscenities of her passion. Yet, no sound left her mouth; it was impossible for her tongue to form the words. For once, she was mute, but still, her mind shrieked the filth. Through a dark veil, she could see the words forming, could even see their spelling, yet they remained bottled within her. If the words couldn't get through her mouth, they would have to escape elsewhere. They flowed rapidly through her body, seeking an exit. They rushed to her toes, causing them to curl, then along her spine, which quickly arched, and finally deep within her, they found an escape as she contracted, and her cum flowed freely. I saw her wetness before I felt it. No longer able to bear the weight, my head had dropped between my shoulders, down over her chest, the sweat from my face was dripping onto her breasts. I watched as my shaft plunged time after time, the image increasing the excitement with each thrust. I withdrew my cock to the outmost boundary of her lips, preparing again for the hundredth assault deep into her, when the moisture suddenly flowed acrossed my shaft, losing itself in the darkness beneath. It was only then, as the veins on my neck swelled from the strain, and the muscles beneath hardened into iron that the small fist first formed in my groin. I stopped, deferring the next lunge, but the fist remained, only now more insistent, more demanding; it grew, swelling out, expanding until I knew there was no way to delay it's ultimatum. I threw my head back, and groaned as the semen, forced relentlessly, rushed through the shaft, exploding into her. The delicious contractions milked me, again and again, but as the last drops followed their course, I plunged deep into her, filling her totally. Early that morning, fighting to bring in a loose sail, my foot slipped on the wet deck and I started to plunge into the water. She quickly grabbed my arm as I hung over the railing, then just as quickly released her hold. As my head broke the gray surface, I gratefully watched her throw the emergency life raft over the stern. I swam to the raft, climbed into the bottom and rested, regaining my strength. Raising my head above the rubber sides, I waited patiently for the catamaran to return, only to watch the boat become smaller, until it disappeared below the horizon. A Drowning She softly kissed the side of my neck, raising her body from my chest, starting to wiggle down. I quickly caught her bottom, holding her tightly on me. She made the slightest gasp of exasperation, demanding, "Let me go." "Not yet," I answered. My hands were cupping both cheeks of her ass, holding her close, my cock captured by the constriction of her warm hollow. My fingers lightly graze the crevice of her ass, feeling her wetness. She gasped, unwillingly dropping her head forward, her wet hair, smelling of the dark warmth of a summer marsh, falling onto my face. She moaned as my finger softly touched her button, exploring the tightness. She made a hurried move with her hips, grinding her mound tightly against me, her clit forcing itself against the base of my shaft. Sinking to her elbows, she cradled the back of my head with her fingers, looking into my eyes. "Let me go, I want to...," she hoarsely demanded again. Ignoring her complaint, I moved my fingers down the cleft of her bottom, touching the wetness flowing along my shaft. I then brought my moist fingers close to her mouth. She hungrily sucked in the fingers, licking, biting- demanding more. Before she could complain, I forced her back, turning her slender body over, so her face was to the netting. She tried to turn and face me when I threw my weight over her, forcing her firmly onto the mat. With one end of a coiled line, I quickly secured her wrists, pulling tight, tying the remaining end to the netting. She resisted little, enjoying the firmness of my cock in her bottom's crevice. When I was sure she was securely bound, I lifted my weight from her body, then sat beside her. She squirmed back and forth, finally rolling over to face me. "You know what I need, love," she said, with a raw demand in her voice, "what are you waiting for?" I looked into her eyes, speaking coldly, "I'm just waiting for the boys to get here..." Her eyes widened, and blood rushed from her face as she realized what I had said. She began to struggle with the line around her wrists, pulling it tighter with her thrashing. I continued to sit, watching her helplessness. "I suppose I should be ashamed about lying to you but you were right, I do work for the fat man," I admitted, looking away to avoid the fear in her eyes. "What are you going to do?" she begged, the words rolling out of her dry mouth. With a voice devoid of any human compassion, I finally said, "I'm going to fuck you for a couple of hours until the others show, then they can have you for the rest of the week, for all I care." "How do you feel now, love?" I asked as I roughly grabbed her legs, spreading them apart. She struggled, trying to kick, twisting her hips to escape, mouth opened wide, teeth clenched. "I bet the boys will enjoy fucking that little mouth, I know I will," I cried out. "You bastard," she screamed, "I should have killed you when I had the chance." "Probably, but tell me how it feels?" I insisted again, kneeling between he legs . "Fuck you," she spit into my face, sobbing inconsolably. After some time, her body slumped as she slowly turned her head to the side, looking into the dark empty water. The only sounds were the small wavelets breaking against the hull. It was deathly quiet I broke the silence, saying, "Then, let me tell you how it feels. You've got nothing more to lose. You've spent your whole life with that horrible dread, losing your freedom, losing control of everything. You've been so fucking afraid, you could never love, never trust. When there's nothing more to lose, you're free." With that, I got up, walked to the mast, picked up the utility blade, and walked back to the girl. Her head weakly turned to look at the knife in my hand. She didn't care what happened now. I knelt down, then cut the line around her wrist. She remained prone on the netting, totally consumed, looking at me. After an interminable time, she weakly gasped, "No one is coming." "No one," I agreed She broke down, words tumbling out of her mouth, "When I was young, only a child, my family took me to the beach. I almost drowned. I remember that I was sinking, I couldn't breath. My father brought me to the surface and pushed me to the shore. I never saw him again. When I was older, they told me he'd died saving me. I didn't die then, but some terrible thing had survived within me. Whatever it was, it's gone now, it finally drowned. You asked me what I felt, that's what I felt, like something in me was drowning." I knelt down, bringing her tightly to my chest, holding her as she sobbed. She put her arms around me, and for the first time in years, she clung to someone-unafraid.