Wicked Wednesday Prompt:
Look at the map of the world and ask yourself where you have experienced love and lust. Have you traveled across continents to be with the one you love or to seek love? Are you in love with someone that is geographically far away from you? How does that influence your life? Or, if you are one of the lucky ones who have found love where you have been born and raised, write a story about lovers who are separated by an ocean.
In my mind’s eye…
Thousands of miles away, on a boat off the shores of Ireland, I fell in lust with a man I will never know. His broad shoulders caught my eye first, and the roar of his laugh over the sea touched my very core. I watched him, mouth slightly agape in wonderment, as he helped an elderly woman to her seat, careful not to let her fall as the waves battled around us.
In mere moments, this stranger stripped me of all my defenses, and all my good sense. With just a word, I would have followed him anywhere, and he hadn’t even noticed me, yet. God, the way his wavy, dark hair swirled around him. I licked my lips, tasting the salt of the sea air and my own desire.
And, then it happened. He glanced my way, smiling. The darkening clouds parted, and his grin radiated the warmth of the sun. His eyes glittered with promise and his body seemed to beckon mine. I felt the wet response between my thighs. Blushing, I looked away. Could he sense his profound effect on me?
What happened next, only occurred in my mind’s eye, but I like to remember it fondly in the dark of the night.
I watched him intently for the duration of the trip. He never glanced my way again and yet with each deft movement of his body, I fell deeper and deeper into a tormented, sexual frenzy. As the boat docked, he began to help people safely to shore. I watched, knowing it would soon be my turn.
As he turned his body my way, one leg on the dock and one still on the boat, I reached for him and he for me. He took my hand in his and guided me off the boat. His touch was a branding iron, imprinting his soul upon mine. Shrinking from the intensity of his stare, I looked away, only to feel him squeeze my arm. I looked back, questioningly, longingly.
“Please wait, Miss,” his voice was deep, polite, yet commanding. His eyes revealed nothing of intentions.
I awkwardly stood off to the side, as he continued to help each passenger from the boat. When he was finished, he nodded at me, and began to finish his work around the deck.
I wasn’t sure how to interpret that nod. Was I to continue waiting? I looked around, anxiously. The dock was now empty, other boats staying ashore to wait out the storm. Here I was, standing alone in the drizzling rain in Ireland, waiting for the attentions of a man I didn’t know. The ridiculousness of it all had my cheeks burning in shame and my body vibrating in anticipation.
Finally, he came to me. I trembled before him, though my body was on fire. He leaned in, inhaling deeply as if smelling me, and lightly brushed his lips on my cheek.
“You look like you could use a drink, Miss,” he said, taking my arm and threading it through his. “Let’s get you out of the weather.”
I think I would have followed him anywhere. Who was this girl? I felt like someone else as I allowed this stranger to guide me off the dock and on to dry land. He steered us to a nearby pub which was dark and warm inside. Leaving me at a table, he said hello to the people he knew and brought back two shots of whiskey.
“Drink up, lass,” he told me, swallowing his in one swift gulp, his eyes never leaving mine.
I sipped my drink, the whiskey burning through me. He laughed, took my drink, and finished it.
The world seemed to stop, and it was just he and I. His eyes penetrated my being. There was no escape from his gaze.
Calmly, darkly, he said, “I’d like to take you to bed, Miss.”
I’d like to say that some part of me considered how dangerous it was to follow a devastatingly handsome stranger, in a foreign country, to his bed…but I shyly nodded my acquiescence.
Taking my hand, he led me out of the pub, and toward his home.
I barely remember the walk. My senses were afloat…the burning warmth of his hand holding mine, his musky scent, his masculine gait…and, what was to come.
He lived in a quaint cottage, surrounded by rusty fencing. Some might have seen the disarray but all I saw was the romance of it.
He led me straight to his bed. Standing there, face to face, he asked me, “Are you sure this is what you want?”
I looked at the floor, and nodded wordlessly.
It was then that he took me in his arms and kissed me deeply. His lips crushing mine, I felt like my entire life had led up to this moment.
It was with urgency that he spun me around, pulling my body to his, his fingers deftly undoing my trousers. In only a moment, he had my pants and panties around my knees, my bottom pressed firmly against the hardness in his jeans. My shirt came off next, discarded on the floor, and I was spun around again to face him. I moaned as he took my nipple, through my brassiere, into his mouth, nipping gently, while he gripped my backside firmly. His searing lips seemed to be everywhere…my breasts, my neck, trailing down…
Picking me up as if I weighed nothing, he carried me to the bed, discarding me there. He stripped off his shirt, lowered his jeans, and I found myself staring in awe at the most perfect cock I had ever seen. It was long, hard, and pulsing.
I cried out as he reached under my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the bed within reach. I screamed in ecstasy as he penetrated me with swift, punishing thrusts. I was nearly over the edge, when he pulled out suddenly, yanking me from the bed.
He picked me up, his hands gripping my ass, my legs around his waist, my hands in his hair. I don’t even remember him sitting down in the chair, but as he sat, I rode, his arms controlling the rhythm. Pleasure coursed through our bodies and he suckled my nipple, bringing me back to the edge.
“Let go, little one,” he whispered in my ear, and I closed my eyes as the waves of ecstasy washed over me, drowning me in pleasure.
We stayed like that, wrapped up in one another for a long time, our breathing slowly returning to normal. My head rest upon his shoulder, his breath hot in my hair. It was in an incoherent daze that he picked me up and put me back on the bed, his body covering mine. I was shocked to feel his hardened member seeking my opening again, already.
Gently this time, he moved on top of me, kissing my lips, my nose, my eyes. I had never been loved so completely, so thoroughly. As climax after climax rocked my body, he rode me into oblivion on that cold, Irish night.
The man I am in lust with…oceans away. The man I will never know, but always long for.
Thank you for reading, and happy Wednesday 🙂