What would you do if you won the lottery?
Cruise the French Riviera on a yacht filled with nubile and eager models? Check.
Throw lavish parties and revel in the attention showered upon you? Check.
Perhaps even give lavishly to charities like you always? Check.
What if it wasn't enough?
Inconceivable is the steamy tale of a man who overnight is granted the ability to buy anything, except for the one thing he desires, and his exciting and dangerous adventures on his quest for the thing which all men seek, but few ever find.
Author's Note: This is a full novel which I've split into four easily consumable sections. All characters are over eighteen. Enjoy!
***
Chapter One
"What line of work are you in, friend?"
It was an innocent enough question, but all I really wanted to do was enjoy the calm of the ocean while I watched the sun slowly drop into the waves. Perhaps I would even glimpse the green flash mariners whispered about. I knew it was unlikely I would deter my congenial companion, but perhaps I could bend the truth a bit and ward him off using boredom.
"Insurance.," I said nonchalantly.
"No shit? How's that treatin' you?"
He seemed to be a pleasant enough fellow. Likely recently retired and beginning what I suspected would be a few decades of traveling before he got too old for the pain-in-the-ass of traveling to be worth it anymore. He had a sunburn which spoke of a recent arrival in the tropics. It usually only took one day in the sun to realize that you were not in the States anymore, and that fifteen unprotected minutes could lead to a week of misery. He was also the only other person on the trip who was not part of a couple. I knew I had, at most, one chance to prevent him from spending the rest of the trip attached to my hip.
"I can't complain," I shook my nearly empty can of beer and said, "I'm out. You want another one?"
He shook his head. I made my way to the galley to collect another of the surprisingly good local beers. I stopped off at the head on my way. Hoping that enough time would pass to allow my interrogator to find another victim.
As I made my way back to the bow, I noticed that my gambit had been successful. He had found a new victim in a younger man whose partner appeared to be sleeping. I resumed my position in the bow, watching the water and enjoying the serenity the ocean provided.
It had been a good day, even a great day. I had been looking forward to this dive for years and today I had finally seen the
Bianca C
with my own eyes. It had been a challenging dive, especially considering her depth of over fifty meters, but she had lived up to the billing of the Caribbean's best wreck dive. I once again caught myself wishing Janice had come along, but that was just muscle memory.
We had booked this trip over a year ago. In a way I think we both hoped this trip would prove to be another honeymoon and re-kindle the spark in our marriage. Unfortunately, she had sat me down for the talk five weeks before we were scheduled to depart. Our marriage was not rocky, or difficult, or fiery. It was not any of the adjectives people apply to failing marriages. It was just...nothing.
We had been close friends in college who became friends with benefits our senior year. We moved in together after we graduated. She had found a great job with an engineering firm in Asheville. We bought a house there and I found a job with a small insurance company as a software developer. After we had been there for a year, I decided to propose to her. We got married a year later and were nearing out five-year anniversary.
In hindsight, I should have known it could never work before the wedding even arrived. We never fought but we also never found the level of passion you see in romance novels, or even some action movies. When we made love on our wedding night, it was the first time we had been intimate in nearly three months. By the time our marriage hit its first birthday the sexy time had dried up again. I tried setting up romantic date nights, or even getaways, but these things have a momentum of their own. Once you have gone a few months without being intimate with your partner it starts to get weird. And that makes the next time even less likely to happen. By the time she told me she wanted a divorce, we had gone exactly fifteen hundred days without having sex. I feel quite certain she was unaware of the round number significance of that particular day. I only knew because as our sex life first started to fade away, I had started keeping track. Initially I did it to prove to myself that I was wrong about how things were going. Then it turned into this constant voice in the back of my head telling me how long it had been.
When she finally told me she wanted a divorce, it had been a relief. We had both been thinking about splitting up for years but neither of us wanted to say anything because we were still good friends. We still enjoyed doing stuff together. The problem was that we were roommates, not a couple. As we started to decide how we would split everything up, the topic of the trip had come up. We had not purchased trip insurance, and it was too late to cancel without losing all the money. In the end, we decided to make the trip anyway. She was spending her days at the beach or shopping in St. George's. I was spending my days scuba diving. Today was the last day of the trip. Tomorrow would be the return to reality and the spiritual end of our marriage.
***
When I got back to our hotel room, Janice greeted me with a smile and said, "So? Was it everything you hoped it would be?"
"Yeah," I said. "It was awesome. Great weather and perfect visibility. Another item checked off the bucket list."
"That's great, Tim. You got any plans for dinner?"
"Not really. I guess I was just going to hit up the hotel bar and grab something."
She said, "Why don't we have dinner together? I know this whole trip has been really awkward, but I think we can do at least one thing together. After all, we're still friends and I hope we could still have fun together."
I smiled at her and said, "Sure, Janice. That'd be great. Lemme grab a quick shower and then we can head out."
I grabbed some clean clothes and headed into the bathroom, our relationship long ago having dropped below the level of seeing each other naked. Twenty minutes later I opened the door to the bathroom and Janice was still getting dressed, standing in front of the mirror in a black bra and a pair of white shorts. She still looked great, even on this side of thirty. She had gained less than ten kilograms since college, which was better than I could say, and her body still looked great. She had amazing C-cup breasts and short auburn hair which she wore in a style she called a bob. She also had a wonderfully rounded ass which the shorts she'd chosen tonight highlighted to perfection. I cleared my throat nervously, aware of the breach in protocol.
She turned to look at me and started to cover herself before saying, "You know what? Fuck it. It's not like you haven't seen them before."
She then chose a blouse and put it on before touching up her make-up in the mirror. She then smiled at me and said, "Ready?"
Dinner was great. We spent a lot of time remembering our school days, and the times we had enjoyed together since. It felt a bit like a wake for our marriage. I had had plenty of mojitos, and she had at least six daiquiris, when our cute waitress came the table and told us the restaurant was closing.
Janice took my arm as we left the restaurant, for support as much as anything. I could feel the swell of her breast pressed against my arm as she leaned into me. I led her towards the beach and when we arrived, she sank down into one of the lounge chairs near the surf. I sat down next to her, and she cuddled up against me.
She said, "This is pretty romantic. The moon reflecting off the water, the surf lapping at the shore, no one in sight."
"Yeah," I conceded perhaps a bit grumpily. "I guess it is."
"Don't' be like that, Tim. I know things didn't work out for us, but we had some good times. Maybe we could go out with a bang, as they say. I know it's been forever since we fooled around but I still have needs." She reached across and grasped my hardening cock through my shorts and said, "And so do you. This won't change anything, but why don't we see if we can make each other happy, like in the old days?"
Part of me had been praying for this moment for years. I knew she was telling me the truth. This was not the magic moment that would rekindle our marriage. Perhaps it was a way to get closure, or to prove to each other that we would still be the friends we had always been. But at that moment all I could think about was her hands stroking me through my shorts. I reached up to caress her breasts as she leaned in to kiss me.
Our kiss was sloppy and tasted strongly of rum. I reached beneath her blouse and unclasped her bra while she tried to open my zipper with one hand. Our lack of practice with the mechanics of intimacy led to several snickers between us but soon enough I had her top off and she had my cock in her hand.
She gave me one last brief kiss before moving down my body to take my cock in her mouth. She had never been a big fan of giving oral sex, and in the past her lack of enthusiasm, combined with a lack of technique, to make it so I was never able to cum while she went down on me. But years of celibacy, combined with a goodly amount of rum on both of our parts, greased the skids and I was quickly heading towards an orgasm.
I gasped, "Janice! You're gonna make me cum!"
She pulled off my cock but continued to stroke my enthusiastically. Moments later my orgasm arrived and covered her hand and a good portion of my stomach which was still clad in my shirt.
She smiled at me and said, "Now that we've gotten the first one out of the way, you can give me a nice long fucking. But don't cum in me, I'm not on the pill anymore."
She got on her hands and knees next to me, so I positioned myself behind her. I was still hard, but quite sensitive, so I pulled her shorts and underwear down to reveal her pussy. I could see moisture glinting off her soaked pubic hair in the moonlight. I knelt down and gave her pussy a long lick, eliciting a yelp from Janice. I licked her again, driving my tongue into her opening at the end of my stroke.
She moaned loudly and said, "Fuck me, Tim!"
I rose again and slowly fed my cock into her soaked opening until I bottomed out.
"Oh yes!" she said, louder than was likely wise in our public setting.
