- 3 -
I watch Logan go, stunned that it’s come to this. I mean, we fight at times. Okay, so we fight all the time, but never like this. Never so final. I jump to my feet, racing to the yacht’s railing.
“Logan!” I cry, oblivious to the fact that I’m naked and soaked in his salty jism. The horn of an even larger yacht sounds, entering the marina. The bigger boat brings rocky waves that send me lurching across the deck. I grapple for the railing, the boat moving too fast for the small marina. I don’t want Logan to leave like this. I don’t want to spend the night alone. “Logan, come back! I-I-I’ll—” I struggle to find the words that’ll make him stay, but embarrassingly, all that comes to mind is: “—I’ll let you do me in the butt!”
He keeps walking.
The boat passes and sends my yacht into a final round of waves. The mating seals have quieted down, but even they are disturbed by the motion of sea. I let go of the railing to reach for my bikini top but another, larger wave sends me reeling. I fly toward the back of the boat, ultimately slipping and falling on a slick spot of Logan’s seed.
I don’t even know how it happens, but suddenly I’m tumbling ass-over-tits over the railing, smacking my head against the side of the boat before sinking like a rock. I fight against the pull of the dark water now that the sun has set. My struggle for air, and to get away from the ropes beneath the boat, is frantic and clumsy and horrifically futile. I push up and grab a gulp of air but immediately sink beneath the surface. I blink, panicking. I’ve spent my life in the water but I feel sleepy and confused. Surely this is the end and my parents will find my body, naked and covered in that complete asshole’s jizz. Gah, how embarrassing!
My life flashes before my eyes. Blow job, blow job, hand job, blow job, foot job, boob job, no job. I can’t believe I’m going to die with an intact hymen. Really, is there no justice?!
Just then, something soft brushes against my back. A fast-moving dark blur cuts through the water beneath me. I spin and reach out, my fingers slipping off what can only be a body.
“Help!” I scream underwater. Only bubbles emerge from my mouth, but miraculously, I feel myself being lifted toward the surface. There’s pressure under my curvy, heart-shaped ass, and then the brush of something soft and gentle between my thighs. The next thing I know, I’ve emerged, gasping for air and cradled in the cozy arms of a magnificent beast.
“Oh my god,” I cough, fighting for oxygen. Once again, I feel the whisper of softness against the exposed curve of my breasts, and then the nuzzle of an insistent mouth on my bare thighs. I blink again, using my hands to push the water and wet hair from my eyes. That’s when I come face to face with a literal, actual seal.
My head spins again from lack of oxygen. I must be going insane, believing that this seal is actually saving me. But my arms are weak from exhaustion and I start to slip back under. The seal pushes me again from the water, his flippers strong and comforting. He leads me right to the ladder of my own yacht and nudges my elbows until my fingers grab hold.
With the seal’s help, I emerge from the water one perilous rung at a time. When I reach the top, I teeter forward, landing with a smack onto my soft, smooth belly. I almost hug the deck, so happy to be safe. I hear the sound of a large flop and a slick landing, and I roll over to cautiously look. Yet again, I come face to face with that seal. A long metal chain loops around his neck, swaying between us. At first, I suspect the seal must have gotten caught up in some of the harbor’s litter, but I’m too stunned to do much more than gawk.
“You saved me,” I say in amazement, and taking quick advantage of having such a glorious creature so close, reach up to cup his wet chin. He roughly nuzzles his whiskers against my palm and I smile in awe.
I feel the heat of his stare as his dark, soulful eyes absorb my naked form. His gaze takes in every single inch of my curvy, luscious body. God, it’s a seal, I tell myself. He’s not looking at me. He’s not thinking about me. It’s impossible!
He waddles forward, pushing his nose against the hollow of my neck, and then jerks his head back toward the water. The chain swings with the movement.
“Don’t leave,” I beg. I didn’t want to be alone before and I don’t want to now. Not after that—not after nearly drowning. Plus, I’m obviously having a weird and upsetting evening, but I’m like ninety-percent positive this seal can understand what I’m saying, and that’s just something that demands a little further investigation.
The seal’s responding bark is gruff and gritty and somehow masculine. The sound rocks me to the core. He moves toward the edge of the boat and I get a better look at him. In the dying light of dusk, I see that he has a tattoo spanning his entire upper-flipper. My jaw drops. How the hell does a seal have a tattoo, anyway? This observation lends a little more credence to the whole ‘understands english’ thing. Something is definitely off about this seal.
He puts two muscular flippers on the ladder and I lurch up, unsteady on my feet but able to dive at him just in time.
“Don’t go!” I cry, feeling crazy and confused. I lunge for the seal, grabbing a handful of his flipper and getting my fingers on all that slippery, tattooed flesh. But it doesn’t matter. A mere moment later, the seal is gone.
All alone, I sink numbly to my knees, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened.
I look to the starry sky, only realizing then I’m holding the chain from around the seal’s neck.
They’re… they’re... military dog tags?
I squint in the low light to read the text aloud. “Sergeant Victor Alfa… Navy Seal.”
I stare out over the ocean in disbelief, eventually clutching the chain and tags to my voluminous, naked breasts.
It’s impossible.
Right?
My heart thumps loudly with the possibility.