- 6 -
That gorgeous girl is on my mind all fucking day.
During patrol.
During a tense mission to the far side of the Kauai.
Even after the sun sets and I’m curled into a warm patch of sand trying to sleep.
I close my eyes and think of her body.
I blink and think of her eyes.
I roll over and remember her scent.
Finally, I decide to forgo sleep and go for a swim. It’s dangerous at night, with so many sharks and whales lurking in the deep ocean waters. But I can’t wallow on the girl all night fucking long. So I spend all night in the water, burning off the pent up energy. The base is right off the water—adjacent to Pearl Harbor—and there’s a small cove I’ve taken to lately. The graveyard of America’s bravest men and women is the perfect place for me to hide in plain sight. I’m nothing but a seal amongst the ghosts of the military here.
The whole experience is foreign to me. I’ve never had the luxury to think outside my mission. Females have never been more than an instinctive need to pass along my seed. Sure, even the non-human Navy Seals need to blow off some steam on occasion. Hook up. Get laid. But this is something different.
I dart around the North Shore, circling the black rocks. I chase some fish in the bay, indulging myself with a healthy snack. It’s not until I pass Diamondhead that I realize where I am. The harbor isn’t far and no matter how many times I turn north, I keep going south, something like instinct pulling me forward.
Under the boats, I begin to rationalize: I’m just checking on her. I’m just making sure she survived and didn’t have a relapse. She could have had complications from the head trauma. A concussion. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing. Every scenario returns to the same thing; I need to see the girl.
I find her yacht easily, as it’s one of the bigger ones. I follow the same path as the night before, heaving myself up the ladder and easing over the edge of the boat with a slick slide. I try not to land too loudly, as my body is massive—over four hundred pounds of sheer muscle and patriotism. The door to the cabin is propped open and I nudge it further with my head. Carefully, I make it down the steps and follow her scent until it takes me to the room at the end of the hallway. A moan floats down to me and another crashing wave of possessive instinct rolls through me. Is she with someone else? Who the fuck is in the room? It better not be whoever wasted their seed all over her body the day before. The door is open and I take the biggest risk of my life, including my mission to Afghanistan, by peering inside.
Relief washes over me. She’s alone, eyes closed, propped up on her bed, pink skin in perfect contrast to the white of the bedding. Again, she moans and I shrink down, afraid she’s waking. Her eyes remain shut but her lips are parted and I hear her sharp inhale.
That’s when she tosses the covers to the ground. She’s completely nude, her pale breasts large and spread across her chest. Her knees are bent at an angle. I have a perfect view of her pussy, dripping with the sweet nectar from her ministrations. Her fingers work with leisure, like she has all the time in the world. I lean back, settling in. The boat creaks as it rolls over a wave.
One hand twists and rubs her clit while the other reaches for a bottle on the side table. She pumps off a glob of oily lotion and takes a break from her pussy just to spread the white substance evenly between both hands. She goes back to her prior work, one hand rubbing against her clit, the other palming her massive tit, tugging at the nipple until it turns an angry purple. Her breathing shifts, turning ragged, and with a weak cry, she drops her tit and reaches down with both hands. One hand seeks the puckered hole beneath her cunt. The other flicks and tickles her clitoris until it’s so red and swollen I can see it from across the room.
Her cries take on a more desperate sound and her cheeks turn an exhilarating red. I watch as she takes care of herself, wishing I could do it for her—wishing I could take away her frustration. I could more than fulfill whatever fantasy is rolling in her head. I can’t do it, though—not like this—and when she lifts her knees and I see how her pretty little pussy gushes and glistens, there’s nothing I want more than to be inside her.
Her jaw quivers and her shoulders shake, and I watch the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen as this girl—this princess—fingerbangs herself into sweet oblivion. As if it’s not enough to watch such a wonder unfold, things shift cataclysmically when she falls back, exhausted and satiated. She reaches between her breasts, lifts up two pieces of rectangular silver, and studies them in the post-orgasm glow.
“That was for you, Victor. Wherever you are.”