Goodbye Greenpeace

People are funny. A person, an individual, may have their head on straight about most things. But, as a collective, the human race is a strange animal indeed.

Any other group of sentient organisms on the face of this ball of rock will swell to meet the conditions of the environment. For example, if there is more food, more cubs will be born. If there is less, then fewer.

There are other organisms that change the environment around them, but none so much as human beings.

And it's all someone else's problem when things go wrong.

I stared into the reflection of my grey eyes in a bathroom mirror and thought these and other things. Anything at all except what it was that I was there for and what was waiting for me in the other room.

Well, I was done being the one who would deal with it when things went wrong. My contract was up yesterday and, as of midnight, I was a free man. I could go anywhere and do anything. Maybe now I would go to college. Like I should have five years earlier.

I suppose it was inevitable that I would follow the path that I did. What choice did I have really, being born on April 22, 1970?

Probably anybody born after 1990 or in another country would not grasp the significance of that date. So, I will spell it out.

On April 22, 1970, as I was being born, so was an American institution known as Earth Day, an attempt by an American senator to turn the protest movements so indicative of the American youth of the time to something other than the Viet Nam conflict.

I don't know. Perhaps that senator really did believe in the environment and my thought that he was just trying to turn attention away from a war... excuse me, "police action", that was causing his constituents weapons making plants to do land sale business is overly pessimistic.

Every school age American child during the seventies, as well their parents, was taught environmentalism as something more than just a word on a spelling test as a result.

The thing that had always made me curious, but no one had ever answered, was if all this rampant environmentalism would have been necessary if America had not switched over to assembly line production facilities due to pressure for war three decades earlier.

A knock at the bathroom door interrupted my musings. Just as well really, since my reflection had never had the answers either.

"Are you going to hide in there until your plane leaves?" The sweetest contralto voice I'd ever heard called out to me. "This is supposed to be your going away party!"

"Not hiding." I called back. "Just trying to make myself pretty and you know how hard that is given what I have to work with."

I avoided saying "make myself ready" with our old joke. Primarily because I wasn't sure I could be ready for what lay beyond that door in the bedroom of the hotel we had found, however long I took.

Then again, if five years wasn't enough preparation, then perhaps I should just open the door and admit that I couldn't do it.

I opened the bathroom door and words failed me as my eyes fell on a nude amazon type beautiful woman. Sandra Little. At times over the past five years, I had hated her. But in the fourteen years I'd known her, I had never stopped loving her.

Sandra was the real reason I had dropped out of high school less than a month from graduation in 1989 and signed a five year contract with a group that specialized in cleaning up oil spills. While my classmates were walking across the stage to receive their diplomas, I was on the coast of Alaska helping to clean up the second largest oil spill in American history.

Sandra was beautiful. She had been since I had first met her and lost her when we were nine. And was even more so when she showed up once more on my parents front porch when we were eighteen to recruit me away from the world that I knew.

And there in front of me was just exactly what it was that had led me to make the decisions I had, nude before my eyes for the first time not counting that brief accidental glimpse in Angola in 1991.

Or maybe it was the Fergana Valley in 1992?

It seems odd that I would forget the when and where of that brief glimpse of this woman I had loved and lusted after. But, where in the world I was didn't really matter. It was all oil spill clean-up and Sandra as far as I was concerned.

I was thrilled to be out of the oil clean up business. But, I was going to miss seeing Sandra day after day.

"Are you just going to stand there ogling my wife? Or are you going to do something about it?" Another male voice said.

Michael, I wasn't sure I was going to miss or not. I liked the guy. If I hadn't come to like him, this whole scenario would have been more palatable.

If Sandra had been my wife, I'm pretty sure that I would not have been lying there on the bed just as nude as she was waiting for another hairy chest to finish up in the bathroom and join us.

"Well, she's worth an ogle or three." I shrugged and grinned, trying to hide my uneasiness at the situation.

"And you've been ogling her for five years." Michael laughed. "Now's the time for doing, not looking."

The old mantra he had quoted at us and the other seven members of our team when he was motivating us over the years seemed really inappropriate in our current situation.

"Are you guys sure about this?" I asked.

"Of course we are." Sandra smiled at me gently. "We wouldn't have asked you if we weren't. But, maybe you aren't sure. It's okay if you aren't. We can get dressed and have a more traditional going away celebration. Maybe drink some tequila and play Scrabble."

"God, no!" I laughed, holding up my hands. "If I never see another Scrabble board it will be too soon."

"Well, I notice you don't say anything about the tequila." Michael said, rising from the bed. "So, why don't we have a drink and we can talk about it."

My attention was about equally torn between Sandra's well rounded assets nicely on display and Michael bouncing just short of a foot out in front in of him. The one had me thinking this was the greatest idea ever while the latter was strangely... "intimidating" might not be the right word as I hadn't had any complaints in that department. Perhaps "disconcerting" would be a better choice.

"Yeah, I think I could use a drink." I nodded.

"Honey?" Michael asked as he grabbed the bottle and some glasses.

"None for me." Sandra shook her head. "On the off chance that this is a go, I want to remember it clearly for as long as I live."

I glanced away from Michael to see Sandra sitting demurely on a towel neatly folded under her at the small table while she looked at me. The look in her eyes...

If she had looked at me that way before tonight, I might have considered staying. Another reason that I had for wondering just what this was all about.

I could see Michael choosing to share Sandra with me to try to keep me on the team. Just as I could see Sandra seducing me to get me to stay just as her thinly veiled not-promises were enough to recruit me in the first place.

"Konpai!" Michael handed me a glass filled with amber liquid and lifted his own.

"Skal." I said, lifting my own halfway between the couple in response.

With half the tumbler down my throat, I was a little more inclined to sit across from Sandra as Michael sank onto the bed. I shan't describe the visual of him saluting the room from around his waist other than to say it was easy to turn my gaze from it to Sandra, if not my attention.

"Ask." Sandra said. Just the one word, but a world of meaning.

"I am leaving." I said firmly. "I am getting on a plane tomorrow and heading back to civilization where I will buy a gas guzzler and drive it to buy fast food and throw the paper wrapper beside the trash can and not worry about it."

"No you won't." Michael snorted. "We know you better than that."

"Fine." I sighed. "So, I'll probably do something environmentally conscious like ride a bike. But, I am still leaving. Whatever happens here tonight, I'm all but gone."

"And you'll probably pick up the wrapper someone else missed the trash can with." Sandra said quietly. "But, yes. You'll be there. Not here with us. Not anymore."

"Then why?" I asked. "If you both know that and understand it, why would you want... this?"

I waved my hand to indicate the three of us in a hotel room and with me the overdressed one in nothing but a towel.

"Why not?" Michael countered. "Why wouldn't we want 'this', as you call it? A sweet memory for all of us after five years of being a family before you leave us?"

I peered at Michael, trying to see if he was serious. How could me fucking his wife be a sweet memory for him? I mean, for me, you bet. And I would do my damndest to make it one for Sandra. But for Michael? Unless...

"Um, I'm about as non-gay as I could be without having a sex change operation to become a misanthropic lesbian." I said. "You know me at least that well, right?"

Michael didn't dignify that with an answer beyond a snort.

"Um. Yeah, we do." Sandra said. "We don't expect for either of you two to touch each other at all. I'll touch both of you and you'll both touch me. But not each other."

"Then I don't get it." I shrugged. "Why would this be a sweet memory for Michael?"

"Cal, do you remember when we watched that Greenpeace boat protesting the deep sea rig and how hard we all laughed?"

I remembered the incident, but didn't see how a bunch of idiots riding a tanker boat that was using somewhere in the neighborhood of a thousand gallons of diesel an hour as it circled an oil rig while they held up signs protesting was at all relevant.

"I'll make you a deal." Michael cocked his head and grinned at me. "Let's both fuck my wife and you can chuckle at me for being enough of a fool to share her and I'll chuckle at you for not understanding we were all sharing the moment together. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough." I felt one corner of my mouth tug ruefully. "But, just one thing. Why now? I mean, if you're all into sharing is caring, then why wait until now to spring this?"

"Actually, we didn't." Sandra said. "I've been trying to seduce you for five years. And Michael has all but thrown you at me and even tried to get you involved in a threesome a couple of times. We thought you weren't interested and gave up."

"I told her you were, by the way." Michael said. "That it was because she and I are together. But, here's the deal. I love you like the brother I wish I'd had growing up. And I love my wife like the air that I breathe. I love you both enough to share this with you. But, not enough to give her up completely."

"And I have loved you since we were nine." Sandra admitted. "I haven't loved my husband so long, but I love him just as much. I love you both enough to share this with you. But, not enough to give up my husband completely."

"But, we don't want to pressure you." Michael picked up on the heels of Sandra. "If you would rather get on that plane tomorrow and go back to civilization without fucking Sandra, then that's ok. We can get quietly drunk and reminisce and she can kiss your cheek goodbye at the airport and I can shake your hand. And then you can get on the plane and we'll never see each other again."

"Or, you can let me suck your cock while my husband fucks me," Sandra said before I could respond. "And vice versa. As many times as we can manage before your plane takes off. And then tomorrow, we can hug goodbye with your cum coating me inside and out under my clothes and you can get on your plane and we'll never see each other again."

"It's your call, Cal." Michael shrugged. "We're good either way."

Perhaps any other guy would have been jumping at the chance to fuck the woman of his dreams, whether her husband was there or not. Or perhaps another guy wouldn't even have been tempted, seeing that she was married and her husband would be there too.

That was me in a nutshell, I suppose. If I hadn't cared about the environment at all, I wouldn't have worked as hard as I had for the past five years. If I had really cared all that much, I wouldn't have stopped but re-upped my contract.

What it came down to, though, was which memory I wanted to carry with me.

Another look at Sandra, with her breasts bared, cupping her chin in her hand and looking at me was all that it took to set that indelible event into motion.

"As the man says," I shrugged. "The time for looking and talking is past. This is the time for doing."

All three of us cracked up at my parroting Michael's key phrase, Michael loudest of us.

The decision made should have been the hardest part. But, that moment that followed was actually harder. Having decided that I was going to fuck another man's wife while he not only watched but participated, how does one begin? Who makes the first move?

Our laughter died and we each looked at the other. I don't know if they were as unsure as I, or if they were just waiting for me to lend concrete actions to my declaration. But, seconds turned to a minute and then another with none of us moving.

I don't know how long we might have sat there if Michael hadn't moved.

"Time for doing." Michael said hoarsely and stood.

One stride of his long legs closed the gap between the bed and the table where we sat. His long cock pointed lewdly at Sandra as he stepped up beside her.

Sandra, for her part, glanced up at her husband's face, then down at his cock, and then across the table at me as she reached up to take it in her hand.

Her eyes stayed on mine as she turned her head slightly and began moving her face towards her husbands waist. I could see her lips part and her pink tongue flickered out to touch the tip.

The sight of Sandra licking a cock was intoxicating and was arousing mine. I realized I hadn't breathed since Michael stood and let it out in what was part gasp and part moan. I saw the corner of Sandra's mouth quirk up as her eyes dipped downward and realized that I had put my own hand where the towel about my waist was beginning to tent.

Those sweet lips that I had fantasized about slipped slowly over the helmet of that cock and began sliding down the shaft.

It was surreal. Images of the Sandra that I had known overlaid this beautiful woman fellating her husband in front of me. In a strange way, my consciousness seemed to be torn from my body as I watched, both there and not there at the same time.

As Michael's long fingered hand lay atop her short cropped blonde hair, guiding her head to take him deeper into her mouth, I saw a mental image of the laughing girl I'd first known teasing me when we were nine.

How? When had that tiny, long haired tomboy of a girl turned into this delightful vixen okay with sucking a cock while another man, and potential lover, watched?

I hadn't been there to see her grow as her family had moved away when we were ten. The next I'd seen her, Sandra had been standing on my parents front porch when we were both eighteen, talking me into giving up everything else to follow her in an environmental crusade.

The long blonde waves of hair that she'd had to be careful not to sit on had been shorn even shorter than my own and Sandra had sprouted from being the only person in our class shorter than I to towering at well over six foot.

Still, on that day, she had not struck me as all that different other than physically. Nor at any time in the past five years as we worked to clean up oil and give the environment a chance to recover from the folly of man.

I would never have imagined in a thousand years as I watched her clean oil from the feathers of eagles in Alaska that I would see her bent in a similar position, all but worshipping her husband's cock five years later. I could not have imagined that that stolen glimpse of her, nude from the waist up standing in a river in some third world country would be repeated more leisurely here, three or four years later.

I would not have dreamed that this was what they had in mind yesterday when they offered to drive me in to the city for a going away party and wait with me until I boarded a plane to leave as she stood with her elbow on her husband's shoulder facing me, the way she had many times before over the intervening years.

"Are you going to watch or join in?" Michael asked.

The words were the same, even if the tone was a little different, as the words he'd said to me countless times over the years when he'd come up on me by surprise as I paused in my own work with my eyes on Sandra as she worked.

Had there been a hidden message there all this time that I hadn't caught as I'd guiltily turned back to my own task? They seemed to indicate there had been an invitation before now and I wondered how much I'd missed as I'd turned my attention back to the work and away from the couple I'd worked with.

After tonight, I wouldn't have to wonder again. At least not about this much.

Rather than say the words, I dropped from my chair to my knees, and walked upon them closer to the couple. There had been something I'd wanted to do for far too long to wait even one more moment.

Michael's cock caused Sandra's cheek to swell obscenely as she half turned to watch me as my hands joined my knees on that ratty hotel room carpet and I crawled towards her. Towards the treasure hidden between her thighs.

It did not stay hidden for long as she parted those sexy long legs to allow me in even as she went back to bobbing her head on her husband's cock.

The lean muscles of her parted thighs seemed to narrow and focus my attention even as they narrowed to that delicate outcropping of folds of skin topped with curls that were just a shade darker and almost as long as her crowning glory. Sandra's pink wetness beckoned to me, calling me closer and I went into her with my eyes open and fixed on that sweet pussy singing a siren's song to me.

A scent like a pristine sea along an unadulterated beach filled my nose. I didn't, quite, pause to think how like the freshness of the waves crashing against white sand after we had cleaned away yet another spill the smell was as I lowered my mouth to taste the strawberry and honey flavor of her.

I used my tongue to separate those delicate lips and felt her thighs against my arms shudder as I drew the nubbin hidden there between my lips to suckle on it. The skin of her thighs was oddly softer against my shoulders than I thought it would be and I heard her moan around the cock filling her mouth.

I flinched as an unexpected hand touched me. But, relaxed as I rolled my eyes up to see that it was Sandra pulling my head into her pussy as Michael pulled hers onto his cock. A flood of wetness filled my mouth and I saw her head bobbing faster as her hand tightened, pulling me closer, deeper into her and I obliged by sticking my tongue as deep into her hole as I sucked harder against her clitoris.

Sandra's mouth came away from Michael's cock with an audible pop and those beautiful bright eyes turned to look at me nestled between her thighs. She didn't say a word to me as her breath came faster and more ragged and I felt her thighs press harder against my shoulders as her hips tried to rise to meet my questing tongue. Her hand continued to hold the cock her mouth had let go and I couldn't quite keep from glancing at Michael to see how he felt about this turn of events.

Michael, for his part, was watching me burrowed into his wife's pussy and I couldn't read the look on his face. Was he having second thoughts as he watched another man lick and suck his wife to orgasm?

Half afraid that he had a change of heart, and this was all I would have, I burrowed deeper, sucked harder, and licked faster, determined that I would squeeze as much as I could from this delectable pussy before I was pulled away. Enough to last me for the rest of my life.

"Oh fuck!" Sandra gasped as she let go of him with her other hand to grip my head with both.