The Isle of Wight- An Af[f]air to Last a Lifeti[m]e

They left everything behind one bright, sunny, cloudless day in May. The excellent weather seemed like a cruel joke, them leaving their normally inclement piece of the pie for what would be at least a long, long time. He gave her a wary smile when they met at the airport, her face was mottled with bright red splotches surrounded by circles of white flesh where it seemed the blood had been drained and deposited behind her bloodshot eyes. He pulled her into his chest where she wiped her snotty nose back and forth without even a consideration. He soothed her with ‘shh shh’ and ‘we’re doing the right thing’ and more ‘shh shh’, running his pale thin fingers through the dark tuft of curls at the back of head as much to calm her as to calm himself. He roughly dug his chin into her crown and put a hand on each of her shoulders, pulling her up and off of him.

“Straighten up soldier. Let’s get the fuck out of here before we change our minds”…

and he led the way to their gate, one knapsack over his shoulder, pulling her luggage behind him. She picked up the remainder of her bags and followed him, tears streaming in gobs down her face.

They were mostly silent throughout the plane trip, she slept a lot which was uncharacteristic for her but generally understandable. He read and put his hands on her anywhere he could. When she was awake they stared at each other and held hands, in awe of their situation and the proximity of each other.

“Maybe we can just stay overseas for a month or two and then go back. No one will care after a while, right?”

He slowly shook his head and the corners of his eyes showed a slight wince deepening the faint creases there. Leaving was painful for them both, but only she wept and wept some more. Then she closed her eyes, the side of her head pressed awkwardly on his chest pinning his shoulder against the seat and his arm around her waist. On a more playful day, maybe later or tomorrow or the next day he would have awoken her by sliding his hands into her pants, tracing her hips with fingers rounding her belly and slipping as far as they could go towards the sweet spot he had literally been dreaming of for months and months. He had thought about what kind of pussy she would have, had thought about kissing it, running his rough tongue over it in long even licks, tasting her and swallowing all the gooeyness that leaked from her into his mouth. He had thought about every way to make her his own and in the end it had been easier than all that. He didn’t have to make love to her, he just had to love her.

When they reached their destination she perked up enough to show glimpses of her usual giddy and over excited self. She had a skip to her step and stretched and yawned like a little kitten waking up, rubbing her eyes and looking much refreshed. They beamed at each other with their signature junior high smiles, piled her luggage, his knapsack into a taxi and clung to each other desperately the whole ride to the rental cottage. She sat leaning against him, back to him, pressing into him. Both of his arms were wrapped tightly around her, she held both of his hands and pulled his arms tighter until he almost asked her to stop and thought better of it. He brought his mouth to the back of her neck, to that spot on her spine with the scoliosis curve from working bent over a computer screen. He licked up the back of her neck with just the tip of his tongue, gently and slowly, tasting the saltiness of her skin. He laid his chin on her shoulder playfully and tilted his face towards the side of hers. She stopped smiling and he felt her heart quicken through her back against his chest, her breath became slightly uneven. He licked the lobe of her ear and then down the side of her neck this time, again just with the tip of his tongue and ever so gently.

“I suppose you’re trying to torture me for making you leave your family behind”. She had an oddly strained timbre to her playful tone. In their relationship their biggest fault to date was the need to constantly test each other. Neither could be blamed for that one could suppose.

“I was thinking the same thing.” His breath stirred in her ear.

She detached herself for long enough to take a look at his face, to get the recognition from his eyes that he loved her dearly, he wouldn’t be mad at her, couldn’t be. She studied him for a minute before wrapping his arms back around her and settled in to feel his breathing low and full against her back, timing her breaths to match his, watching the changing scene out of the taxi window without realizing that it was beautiful or it was changing. The melancholy he worried so much might consume her before was making its mischievous presence known here now thousands of miles away from their home. He had imagined it before in her gut like a seeping wound that might not ever stop without killing her. He had hoped that this would fix her, this trip to the strange place she had fairly randomly chosen as their new home. On the Isle of Wight in the County Blackgang, way at the bottom of the strange British land mass, a cottage on a cliff awaited them. There they would do much the same as they did at home for occupations except this time in a tiny cottage usually rented out to tourists in the summer months. They would have a very cold winter in the summer cottage but didn’t think that far ahead. The city real estate agent she had spoken to gave the Americans a very fair monthly price and she had accepted without even consulting him first. Wiring the money the cottage was theirs before they had even made arrangements within their very separate lives to leave. Hearts were broken and shock was handed around in giant heaping piles of shittiness in a very short amount of time and it was over and done and they were shoving their things into whatever they could see through tears and angry red family members.

Now they were weary, pulling up in front of the cottage, both wide eyed at the sweeping cliff side in front of them. “I have brought her to the saddest place in the world.” He thought with one gut wrenching sigh.

“It’s amazing. I’ve seen photos of things like this and never thought I’d actually see a cottage on a cliff on the Isle of Wight!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the cottage, oblivious of their luggage or the anxious cabbie.

“Yes, it’s amazing all right.” And down right dangerous.

They explored their new home, three rooms with one great room ensconced in wood walls and ceilings, all painted a bright white, a small bathroom with ancient plumbing and a bedroom with a cozy full bed adorned with a quaint baby blue quilt. They unpacked silently and as night approached they walked through the tall grass beside the cliff hand in hand and watched the dramatic dark waves hit the beach below.

They went back to the house in more silence, both thinking that this was the least amount they had talked in months.

“Are you hungry?” She queried shyly.

“Not really, are you?”

She shook her head and walked into their new bedroom, the first thing they had ever shared so far in their lives. He followed her in and watched her undress in the moonlight from the doorway. A dewiness clouded his eyes and made it seem to him as though her skin sparkled. She turned her back to him and he took in the curves of her body, her belly round and marked with deep ravines of stretch marks given to her by four pregnancies with four large babies. Pregnancies he had never shared with her. Her behind was large and flat, flanked by her hips that jutted out exotically from her thin waist. Her legs were plump and short, her feet so small they seemed like little fluted vase bases holding her legs up. She stretched upwards to remove her sweater and unhooked her bra in a fluid motion. By the time she turned to him with a sweet smile on her face they both had tears in their eyes.

He came across the room to her and did not undress. He held her in his arms and slid his hands down her back, feeling his way down to her bottom, squeezing and holding each cheek and underneath to where their curves met the back of her thighs. She stood still with her arms around him and he kissed her shoulders gently. She had goosebumps and shivered deeply with a sigh. He met her sigh with his mouth, taking her bottom lip with his teeth, biting and pulling just slightly. He could feel her plump bottom lip quiver in his mouth and grinned an impossibly large grin. They stood together like this, touching each other, searching gently each others’ bodies with soft, smooth movements, looking into each other’s eyes.

He kissed her with more force this time, parting her soft lips with his tongue. He tasted of smoke, she tasted of cherry cough drops. He gently pushed her back onto the bed and still fully dressed laid on top of her, pushing apart her legs with one knee, pressing his jeans zipper against her cunt. She wrapped her legs around him and bucked up with her hips, anxious for him to be as naked as her. He kissed her more deeply and with more fervor, locking her head down to their new bed. He rubbed and rubbed against her until the bulge underneath his jeans opened her cunt to him, spreading all kinds of wetness onto him. With broad licks he coated her collar bone with spit, licking down the center of her breasts, lapping on her nipples with gaining intensity. He finally relented as she pulled his shirt over his head and he laid his body down on her with all his weight and undid his jeans, pulling them off as she slid her tiny feet down his legs to aid in his undressing. She lifted her hands to his mouth and he kissed and bit her fingertips, mouth wet from kissing her.

She wrapped her thighs around him once more, pulling him down fast against her cunt, waiting to feel his dick rubbing against her wetness. With his hands underneath her he pulled up at the bottom of her ass, grabbing handfuls of her cheeks, fingers grazing at her asshole wet from her eager pussy. When he entered her they both sighed loudly and with perfect motions he fucked her with slow intensity.

Once upon a time she had told him that no first time making love could ever be perfect but as their sighs became words of faster, harder, god I love your dick, i love you, the swirling orgasms in them swelled and ebbed in thoughtless synchronicity. She bit at his neck and whispered in his ear, I’m going to come, oh god i’m going to come for you and shook with ecstasy underneath his weight. He took in her face, seeing her come for the first time, seeing her gasp, groan and her eyes closed and then without delay burst deep inside of her, filling her with sticky salty come, marking her as his for all eternity.

They didn’t have to hurry, they didn’t have to find their clothes and run or think about the next day’s activities and plans. They lay there in practical puddles of sex and got under the quilt together. He held her from behind and she felt his breathing low and full against her and began to time her breaths to match his. Before she knew it she was asleep in his arms, sleeping instead of enjoying the closeness with him she had imagined in her head time and time again by herself in her own bed at home.

The next morning before they made love again she made a mental note to remember what it was like the night before for the rest of their lives. The night before she became his alone, the night before they sealed the pact so long in the making.

And it was perfect.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/479mcr/the_isle_of_wight_an_affair_to_last_a_lifetime