“The guy I’m really sorry for in all this is my father. He’s got a real shit sandwich here. He’s got one son who has been driven out of the family, a second son who is quite probably insane, and a wife who he dearly loves and who blames one son for the other one. The only normal one of them all is my sister. I just hope she gets out of there before Mom drives her bonkers, too!”
“I just don’t know what to say,” she said.
“What can you say? I’ll call Dad at the office tomorrow. Tonight I think I need a few more drinks.” With that I raised my hand and flagged down the waiter, and ordered another round.
That made a third round for us, which is where I normally draw the line. Dawdle over the third drink, finish with some hot tea, and with my size and weight I won’t be even close to the legal limit for driving. Talking about my fucked up family was depressing. After the third drink was finished, I ordered a fourth, although Marilyn skipped on it. After dinner we went back up to our suite.
“I’m going to get ready for bed,” said Marilyn.
I just nodded. “I think I’m going to sit up for a while.”
Marilyn reached up and kissed me, and then went to her room. I went to mine and grabbed the bottle of Canadian Mist I had picked up earlier. I always pack a bottle of whiskey when I go on vacation. It’s easy to make a quick mixed drink with some soft drinks from a vending machine, and it’s much cheaper than whatever is in the mini-bar. Tonight I wasn’t interested in anything mixed. I grabbed a glass off a buffet and cracked open the whiskey and poured myself a couple of fingers. It felt very smooth going down. I poured myself some more and sat down in an armchair in the darkened common room facing the patio door looking out over the ocean. It was very dark, much like my soul felt at that moment.
I went and opened the patio door, and found a couple of padded deck chairs out there, along with a small coffee table. Out there you could hear the crash of the surf and see a few ships’ running lights out at sea, and not much else. It was warm and I unbuttoned my shirt. I sat there in the dark and sipped my whiskey. By one measure I was well on the way to achieving my dreams. By another, my life was in the shitter. What does a man live for? Is it himself only, and nothing else? If not for himself, then for whom? His family? And if he has no family, then for whom? His country? And when I was done with the army, or the army was done with me, what then? What if a man’s family has left him, and not the other way around? I sat there and drank my whiskey.
It was bad enough on the first time through. Then I had simply been a lifelong disappointment, which was bad enough when your parents spend their lives rubbing it in. Now I had been thrown out of the house! What the fuck was wrong with me?
I felt more than heard Marilyn come out. I turned and found her standing there in the doorway. She was wearing a long silk robe, and was barefoot, and she looked impossibly young and innocent. I turned back to the sea and had another sip of Canadian Mist.
“Are you going to be all right?” she asked.
She must have thought me suicidal, sitting there and drinking in the dark. Hell, I felt it, somewhat. I set my glass down. “Sure, don’t I look all right?”
She came closer, to stand next to me, and she put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s going to be all right.”
It was just too much for me. I couldn’t help myself. I just started crying, silently. I could probably count the number of times when I’ve cried since I became a teenager sixty plus years ago on one. Twice, when my parents died. Once more when I understood that Alison was mentally retarded. A third time when Alison died. When Marilyn died, I cried for three days straight. There was the time this time around when Hamilton wrecked Christmas.
“I’m here, I’ll stay with you,” whispered Marilyn.
I turned my head and buried my face in the soft warmth of her robe, and the tears just poured out of me. Marilyn pulled me closer and held me in her arms and continued to whisper to me.
Eventually I got tired of crying, and just turned my head slightly and looked back out at the ocean, as dark as my soul felt. I unwrapped myself from Marilyn and stood, leaning against the railing on the small patio and looking out at things. Marilyn came up behind me and wrapped her arms around me. There was nothing out there for me. I turned to face her and lowered my face to hers. It was so easy to kiss her, and to hold her in my arms. It was even easier to lift her up, and to carry her back inside. We continued kissing as I slowly carried her through the common room and on into my bedroom.
I laid Marilyn down on my bed and sat down next to her. I couldn’t speak, and I couldn’t give her a chance to speak. I lay down next to Marilyn and took her back in my arms. She smelled clean and fresh. It was obvious she had showered after we got to the room and I could feel the robe was all she had on. I ran my hands down her side and Marilyn moaned, and pulled me tighter into her arms. I was running on pure instinct. My kisses became more intense and I continued running my hands along her body, and she continued to respond. And then my right hand was inside her robe, and for the first time in seeming forever I was cupping her breast.
Oh, God, it felt so good there, so warm and full and firm. Marilyn has tiny nipples, so faintly pink as to be almost nonexistent, but they were poking at my fingers. I licked my way down her neck and across her chest until I was sucking her nipple, as my fingers played with the other. Marilyn was very sensitive to this, and she moaned and writhed on the bed. I took this opportunity to loosen her robe and slide a hand lower, down her body and along her hip, and then around to the front. She had a small triangle of fur between her legs, and it was wet with desire. I slipped my middle finger into the tangled mat and ran it along the greasy slit. As soon as it touched the little nubbin at the top, Marilyn arched her back and let out a silent cry as she orgasmed.
I began to slowly lick and nibble my way down her body, reacquainting myself with territory long since forgotten. Marilyn shuddered as she came over and over. When I got down to her pussy, I used the finger of one hand to hold her labia open while I licked feverishly at her clit. My other hand undid my pants and pushed them and my briefs down. As soon as I could get them out of the way, I began eating my way back north, with stops at her belly button, her breasts, her neck and then her lips.
And then I was over her, and between her legs, and inside her. Marilyn flinched as I tore through her maidenhead, but I stopped once I was fully inside and bottomed out. I continued kissing her and she relaxed, and that was when I began to slowly stroke in and out. Marilyn was moaning as the top of my cock rubbed against her clit, and her ass was humping up and down off the bed, thrusting up at me and driving me in deeper. It had been so long since I had done this, and it felt so good and I was getting closer and closer and it was so much better than when we did this the first time.
That thought was like a blast of cold water. Even as my cock began to spasm, I pulled out and began spurting on her belly. The first time we made love, I hadn’t used a rubber and Marilyn hadn’t been on the Pill, and here I was being so incredibly stupid again. Worse, I knew Marilyn had always felt wrong about sleeping with me that first time, and here I was raping her drunkenly. I rolled off to one side and just lay there staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t even get this right!
Marilyn roused herself and rolled over to face me. “Oh my God!” she said. Then she looked at me, and asked, “What’s wrong?”