The Straight

Lean in against me and listen to the surf. We are propped against a lilo, against a rock. The fire crackles off to our left. Across the strait, we see the lights from the town on the smaller island. The sun set an hour ago and they are letting off fireworks in the main square, by the white church. We took the ferry over there yesterday.

I feel the warmth of your skin of your back. Warmer still where I have striped you. Your nipples bleed and I cup both breasts with antiseptic wipes.

You scream and whimper, staked below the tideline, as the salt water rolls in and over the clips and stripes. Panic! Blood in the water...sharks! Well, I put the shark in your mind, talked about sighting of a tiger nearby. I sit next to you as the surf laps, laugh at the panic, and add more clips. "Don't worry, it was only a newspaper report. Anyway, they don't usually come in to the shallows. Humans are too bony, don't have enough fat. Still...there's blood..."

By the fire, putting the bloodied wipes in the waste bag, biting your neck, I whisper to you to spread your legs. The welts from the not-cane, the bastardo, are still fresh. I pluck a fresh wipe, and gently clean away the salt and detritus, first from you left thigh, then from your right. You lean your head back and we kiss.

I stand in the surf and release each leg in turn. Brace each on my shoulder and strike you. Water-cooled flesh of your thighs, exposed to crepuscular air, coming out quickly with black marks and trickles of blood. You sob and tremble after only a couple of minutes and I retrun your left leg and release your right. With both, you scream as I return them beneath the saltwater. With this task done, this moment of extracted agony, I kneel beside you kiss you for what seems like forever. The sun is still setting.

Settle your head in my lap-buy you a few more minutes in the surf-I add more clips. First to each breast, always make certain to keep balance. Then, up your neck and around your face. These are agony, but they take your mind off the rising water. Finally, I slide from beneath you, and reposition myself beside your thighs. You know what I am about to do, but you must struggle to hold your head up out of the water; you cannot prepare yourself. I place the first of three..."FUCK!"

I smile "language, girl"

"Fuck language...sir! Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!" number two.

"FUCKFUCKFUCK!MOTHERFU..." I place number three, and-with a fluid motion-reach up and push your head underwater. You splutter and choke for a moment. I let you up just long enough to take a breath, then submerge you again. "Language, girl".

My hand pins you. You struggle. You have never been great at holding your breath. Just when your lungs are bursting, my mouth finds yours beneath the waves, and I breath a lung full of air into you. I keep you alive like this forever. Every time you think you are about to burst, to die, I come to you and deliver air. Hours, days, years later, there comes a time I do not arrive. Now you know your are going to drown, that I have forsaken you.

As the panic reaches crescendo, you feel my hands, my rough hands upon the clips. First, your face. I rip them from you. You cannot help it, a bubble, a scream escapes you. You manage not to choke. Next, your breasts. God, how many are there? Sixty. I manage to get them all in one cruel rip. This time you do choke, but now you know the game. You manage to hang on, to get it under control. Finally, you feel me brush the three. Please, please, just DO it! You will. You cannot hold on much longer. PLEASE!

To your surprise, I release your hands suddenly. Right as you lift from the surf and gasp, I RIP. You scream and scream and throw your arms around me. I release your legs and we are in one-another, completely, in the water and the blood. You scream and rip and tear at me as I thrust in you, bite you, slap and fuck and fuck and fuck you. We roll over and over in the water so we can both feel the bite. Finally, we crawl, together, separately, from the surf and lay panting by the set but not-yet-lit fire.

-

I finish cleaning and dressing your wounds, wrap you in a soft towel and hold you close. Kiss your neck. You lean back and look up at me and I smile and mouth something at you, something only for you. We cuddle and watch the fireworks. I stretch around and reach for the hamper, laying just behind us. "I went to the market while you were on the other beach this afternoon. I've got Serrano ham, Piquillo peppers, tortilla, cheese, bread, olives and Cava. Would you like something to eat, girl?"