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THE CALL OF A SIREN
Gloria called him immediately of course ... but it went straight to voice mail.
"This is Max. Leave a message."
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought to herself as she ended the call. He's on that motorcycle. He can't answer the phone...
But she called him again anyway, just to hear his voice... and then once more, leaving a long rambling message.
The few hours she had spent with the amazing boy all those months ago had changed her profoundly. He was responsible for turning her already fiery libido up another level and since they'd been apart her lust for his big prick had become like a physical ache.
Now he was back. Max had found her somehow and had come back to take her...
He's gonna fuck me, she thought happily. That lovely big cock... oh gods, yesss...
Shaky and excited she floated happily around the house thinking about seeing him again.
Maybe he'll stay, she realised. Maybe he'll come and live here...
What would it be like to have the beautiful teenager as a boyfriend? She didn't know anything about him really except for his obvious physical endowments. He was an artist, she knew that... a good one. And he loved her, she was pretty sure of that as well.
The biggest problem would be Julie.
Gloria and her daughter had become quite close since her husband left... more like a couple than mother and daughter. Having Max around would almost definitely upset her.
There'll be no more sleeping in mommies bed sweetheart, Gloria thought grimly. Oh, and by the way dear, here's your new dad!
Gloria and Julie had come to rely and support each other over the years ...make decisions together and... well, truth be known they were probably much closer then a mother and daughter had any right to be. They'd had only had each other for so long.
She'll have to get over it, thought Gloria dismissively. It can't be healthy the way it is.
And there's the age difference of course. Max can't be more than twenty.
I'll probably become known as that crazy old cradle snatcher, involved with a boy half my age. More than half... I have to be well over twice his age... maybe triple...
"But he wants me," she said out loud, dancing around her lounge-room like a teenager, "and I really want you baby," she gushed, kissing the screen of her phone because it could connect her to him.
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Gloria couldn't know it but she was always on Max's mind as well. From the moment she had driven away from him almost a year ago, she had been slowly drawing the kid back to her like a siren.
The horny teen fantasised about her morning noon and night. The texture of her skin... that mass of glorious black hair... her amazing huge breasts... that superb big round peach ass... that look... that wonderful look in her big hooded eyes when she orgasmed... and he'd shoot his seed like a garden hose!
The situation was only manageable because he had so much work to do. All of his sketches and watercolours from his beach tour had to be turned into finished framed paintings, ready to sell.
He approached the projects methodically. Borrowing money from friends to purchase canvas and paint, he spread orange plastic on the floor and walls of his little apartment and painted madly, from early in the morning to late in the evening. More often then not he would get on a roll and paint all night, sipping whiskey and eating CheezOs, until flopping into bed exhausted as it was getting light outside.
Creativity flowed through him, into his brush and onto the canvas, fuelled by the memory of the beautiful woman he met by accident on a lonely beach.
He worked with a passion he'd never felt before creating the best work he'd ever done. A dozen large works took shape, some based around the large naked painting of Gloria laying prone in the sand. Others were storm washed headlands, stunning windswept seascapes, large powerful paintings that drew the viewer in like a good book.
The first-ever exhibition in his young career was an unprecedented success. Nobody could believe that one so young could paint with such maturity and character. When the important reviewers and critics said all the right thinks his success was assured and art lovers lined up to buy his work. Wealthy highbrow people paid exorbitant amounts of money to own one of his paintings, more money than he could ever have imagined. It felt like a fortune to Max.
More importantly, the art world wanted more, especially paintings like the big nude portrait of Gloria. A banker wanted it 'at any price', angrily upping his offer again and again, and the State Art Gallery was bidding as well... crazy amounts of money... but Max didn't sell. It belonged to Gloria as far as he was concerned.
Eventually, when the last little watercolour had been sold and delivered and the crowd of well wishes and hangers-on had all gone home, Max was left alone in his little apartment. With nothing to distract him anymore, the ever-present thought of Gloria struck him like an arrow into his heart.
She'd have finished dinner about now, he thought, stroking his hardening cock as he watched television, maybe doing the washing up or maybe she's watching some telly as well...
He had no photo but he did have the drawing he'd done of his goddess sleeping on the sand. He kept it handy on the fridge door, snared under a pineapple shaped magnet. It was a very well loved piece of paper. Thumbed and a little ripped, it was splattered with small daubs of oil paint as well as some wayward splotches of dried yellowing cum - but it was still a great drawing, capturing his goddess perfectly. The blemishes somehow added texture.
Perhaps she's having a shower, he thought as he ran a finger over the curve of her hip...
His overactive imagination visualised her soaping those huge boobs as clear as day. ... mmm... squeezing those yummy big fat nipples... oh fuck yeah... she loved me squeezin' 'em...
Suddenly he couldn't take it a moment longer. The thought of her beautiful smile, her husky voice, her beautiful juicy cunt, was more then he could bear.
Jumping to his feet he found his old duffel and packed it with a few clothes and a toothbrush. The drawing he rolled up and inserted into a mail tube and packed it on top. Then he walked out of his apartment.
In ten minutes he was heading north on his big black Harley-Davidson. It wasn't till dawn was coming through the trees on his right that he wondered if he'd closed the front door.
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MORGAN'S HEAD
Stopping only when he had to pee or fill the bike with gas he rode like a crazy man and two days later, dusty and exhausted, the love-sick kid drove the noisy motorbike into Morgan's Head. This was the little town that boasted the worlds best surf, the loneliest general store (with a single petrol pump), and the biggest concentration of dope growing hippies this side of Goa. It was
the last place he'd stopped at before he found his way north to Gloria's secluded beach.
Exhausted beyond belief he threw himself on the mercy of the old beatniks who had been so kind to him when he passed through all those months ago. Tommy, tall and thin with his long back hair and vandyke beard and Sarah, a short buxom blonde woman with big boobs and tie-dye everything, welcomed him with chilled out warmth.
"Ahhh yeah dude. Affairs of the heart man... heavy dude... we totally get it don't we Sunshine?" said Tommy philosophically when Max told them his story.
"Oh yea, yea, yea Maxy baby," agreed Sarah, who looked just like Janis Joplin. "When the love bird call's, you got to go to her man... go to her..."
They fed him a big pile of whole-grain flapjacks, dripping with local honey and fresh thick cream - the best thing he'd ever eaten - and put him to bed on the comfy old lounge on their back porch where Max pretty much passed out. He slept the rest of that day, right through the night and into the wee hours of the day after.
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MAILS IN!
When he finally woke up his 'morning glory', his massive cock, was rearing up lecherously for any other early riser to see.
He'd been dreaming that he met up with Gloria again at the secret beach. It felt so real he imagined he could still taste her lips on his. He continued the fantasy as he jerked off, stroking his dick lovingly, picturing the two of them fucking like dogs on the sand.
After he sprayed his cum over his chest and face he went for a walk around the little village. He needed to work out a plan.
How good would it be to meet her back there, he thought as he wandered down the main street, the only tarred road in the little hamlet.
All the old clapboard houses were still silent and dark but the general store was open. He brought a big bottle of water from a fat happy Irishman and drank it as he wondered about.
The little shop looked like nothing from the outside but was bigger inside then he'd expected and was surprisingly well stocked with camping and fishing gear. As he looked through their wide range of tents, Max hatched a scheme... a perfect romantic idea that would sweep Gloria off her feet! He had the money to buy the best and the best they had was perfect.
His hippy friends thought it was a good idea too and, with the generosity reserved for the alternative livers, let him borrow everything else he needed, all the things he couldn't buy. Tommy even lent him his truck.
"Just don't bog it dude," Tommy had said. "Keep to the hard sand... and don't drive in the waves... rust is the silent killer man!"
With the back packed with camping gear, food and water he was soon driving due north in the old pickup using the long sandy beach as his highway.
The journey had taken a good part of the day when he'd walked it but the old truck chewed up the distance pretty quickly. He became slightly afraid that after this much time he might drive right past the spot...
He needn't have worried. As he got closer he began to recognise features... the big rocky red bluff... the big shady pandanus tree... Gloria's secret shady beach was just as he remembered it. The memory of that wonderful afternoon washed over him like it was yesterday.
