Aloha My Love

Disclaimer: All sexual activity described in this story involves fictional characters over the age of 18.

~~~~~

"Dad, are you sure you don't want us to go with you?" my daughter Katie asked, her fraternal twin sister Tonya by her side.

I snapped at her, "Dammit, Katie, don't play those passive-aggressive games with me. This is about you two wanting to go, not about me not wanting you to. When I wish I didn't have to go, myself."

"Okay, we want to go. Can we, please?"

"I told you, the last three times you asked, that if you can afford the airfare, I could use points to spring for a hotel room for you to share. But you each said you didn't have the money, and I only have enough airline points for my own fare, after we flew to New England last Christmas. Has that changed?"

"But, Daddy, it's Hawaii!" Tonya squealed.

I sighed. "You say it like you've never been there, before. But, face the facts, girls, it's still an $800 airfare, times two. I'm sorry, I just can't afford to take you, right now, not even as a Christmas gift. But I can't keep putting it off until I can, either. Please, please stop asking me."

"Sorry, dad," they said, in unison. They might even have meant it, this time.

I really wished I could just snap my fingers and make it happen for them. But if I had that kind of power, I'd use it to bring my wife Cheryl back to life, and this whole trip to Hawaii wouldn't even be necessary. Or maybe we would have been able to afford to take all four of us as a 25th anniversary trip or to celebrate the girls graduating college.

You see, neither of the two life insurance policies covering Cheryl would pay off, when she reacted to a diagnosis that her end-stage ovarian cancer had metastasized to her brain by taking her own life, even if the brain tumors had likely affected her judgment, according to her doctors. After losing most of her income during her illness and the rest of it when she died, then paying for her funeral out of pocket, money was suddenly very tight. I had been forced to sell our house and moved into a condo that barely had room for the three of us now. I used the net cash to pay the last year and a half of our daughter's college tuitions. The girls were now working, but were only making entry-level salaries and paying against modest student loans, while my budget wasn't doing much better, after payments for the debts we racked up while Cheryl was sick. Without the frequent flier and hotel points I earned from travel I did for my job, I would still be trying to save for this trip, myself.

There were times when I resented and even hated Cheryl for doing that to us, wrecking my financial future and that of our daughters with what I could only imagine was an impulsive decision, certainly not one that she'd possibly thought through. And I turned around felt guilty for what felt like selfishness. Was I justified in profiting from her death? Was I still obligated to keep my promises to her?

I had made the promise to Cheryl, though. To have her cremated and to scatter her ashes at three different sites. Kauai was the final site, and I decided to do this last scattering on the 2nd anniversary of her death, more than a year after the other scatterings had been completed.

Why the delay? I could say it was because I didn't have the money, which wasn't true, because I was using the points to pay for it. I could say it was because I didn't have the vacation time, which wasn't true, either, since I hadn't taken a vacation since the bereavement leave. Or because work was really busy. Or any of another half-dozen excuses. But it was all bullshit. The real reason for the delay was I just didn't want to do it. I didn't want to say this final goodbye.

Because then, I'd be forced to keep the final promise I'd made to her, the one where I agreed to move on and find someone new to take her place. That's the promise that scared me. The one I was using her ashes to stall.

Cheryl was my sweetheart going back to Middle School. I'd never dated anyone else. Hell, I'd never really had to ask her out, as hanging out at school lunch just turned into hanging out after school, then into going to the movies, and before we knew it, it was just assumed we would go to Prom together and we were applying to the same colleges. We got married a month after graduating college, and our parents got together and sprung for a two-week honeymoon trip to Kauai, the first of several trips we made to the Hawaiian Isles over the years, back when we always seemed to have enough money. The last, to Maui, had been when the girls graduated high school, and had been when Cheryl first felt symptoms from the cancer. Ke'e Beach on the north shore of Kauai was always her favorite for snorkeling, though, so it made her scatter list. She even got a tattoo of a Hawaiian turtle glyph on her shoulder, to remember swimming with sea turtles there.

It was only going to be a short trip, two nights, flying out December 22nd, scattering her ashes on the 23rd, and flying home on Christmas Eve. And I just wasn't looking forward to it.

~~~~~

I can still remember the night I first made that promise. It was our 10th anniversary, and we'd asked my parents to watch the girls, who were 8 at the time. The plan was to take Cheryl to our favorite San Jose restaurant, then out dancing. Her golden blonde hair was piled upon her head, and the red dress she wore that night was tight, short, and turning every male head around.

Over dinner, she said, "Did you hear about Tom Carson?"

"Car crash on 280, right?" He had been hit by a drunk truck driver who didn't stop when traffic did.

"Yes. Poor Mary. Not only does she lose her husband, but now she's fighting with his family over the funeral arrangements. They want him buried in their family plot, but she prefers cremation."

"What did he prefer?" I asked.

"They never even talked about it," she answered. "And I realized we never have, either. I want to be cremated, then scattered at some of my favorite places. How about you, Larry?"

"I haven't much thought about it, but I guess that sounds better than taking up space in some cemetery."

We both decided to come up with our list of places, and conversation moved on to other topics. After the dinner, we headed to a nightclub to dance, but the way her body moved in that dress had me rock hard in minutes, and we giddily hurried home. It wasn't often we had an empty house in those days.

"I love you," I said, as I worked the zipper down the dress, and slipped it off, planting a kiss on her shoulder tattoo.

"You're just horny," she said. "Which I do love about you. Ten years of marriage, and you still get hard just looking at me?"

"Because I'm the one guy who knows what is under that dress," I said, spinning her around and kissing her fiercely. "I was imagining this moment, taking it off of you."

She started working on the buttons to my shirt, saying, "God, you make me wet, when you say things like that."

"My goal in life," I whispered, as I began to nibble on her ear, one of her top erogenous zones. Her hands moved from the last shirt button to the belt on my pants, opened it, and unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. She wriggled away from my mouth, to drop to her knees, and pull my pants and boxers down to my ankles, in one yank.

She had my stiff cock in her mouth before I could kick my shoes off and pull my feet free, my struggles having the effect of thrusting my cock deep into her mouth. Instinctively, she took me down her throat, and her lips were pressed into my pubes. She still squealed in reaction, as we'd both been taken by surprise.

She slowly withdrew, to say, "Naughty boy," before slamming me right back down her throat, over and over, breathing on maybe every third stroke.

"Oh, gawd," I began moaning, in response to each repetition, my hips thrusting a little more, until she was holding still and I was fucking her face, which I held between my hands, her blue eyes looking up at me. "I'm real close, baby," I warned her, and her response was this growl from deep within, that reverberated through me, and bounced around my gonads, as they launched volley after volley of sperm deep into her throat, as she grabbed onto my tush with her left hand, holding herself taut against me.

When she felt me slack off, she pulled off of me with a loud slurp, and gasped for breath, still holding on to my backside to keep from falling, while I caught sight of her right hand whipping back and forth inside her panties, her body shuddering as she came.

When she stilled, I helped her upright, and kissed her, a slight amount of my cum and precum still smeared across her lips, and down her chin. I wiped off some of the juices, and sucked them from my fingers, knowing how much it turned her on whenever I did it. My own taste wasn't my favorite, but for her I'd have drunk a pint.

The look in her eyes said what her breathlessness couldn't. I scooped her into my arms, and carried her to our bedroom, managing to pull her panties off her ass, and undo her bra clasp as I went. So, when I laid her down on the bed, I could pull both off of her with ease, and dive between her legs to return her oral love.

Her taste, on the other hand, was one I couldn't seem to get enough of. Musky, with a hint of salt or sugar depending on what she had eaten recently, it always slipped easily down my throat, in what felt like an unending supply. That night, my tongue slipped between her inner labia, around the rim of her opening, probing as deep as I could, before sliding back up to tease her clit, bringing the first of many moans.

Each course around her pussy, I pressed a little harder, stayed on her clit a little longer, until finally she grabbed my head in both hands, and kept me in place over her clit. This was usually my cue to introduce two fingers into her snatch, seeking out her g-spot. She arched when I found it, and screamed when I sucked her clit hood between my lips, and thrashed the hard nub with my tongue.

As always before, this produced an orgasm that even the neighbors must have heard, her screams guttural and indecipherable. She bucked her pelvis up, and started to jerk around, her spasms seeming to go from head to toes and back again.

My cock was steel hard and leaking more precum, as I crawled over her body and sheathed myself before she'd stopped shuddering. It was my goal to keep her orgasm from ending, and I was successful about half the time, and tonight was one of those. I thrust deep and hard, her eyes glazed over in pleasure, her body rocking below me, her tunnel rippling, threatening to make me cum way too fast. I backed off, slightly, and my orgasm retreated.

I had managed to roll her into her third straight orgasm, her wails never ending, when my orgasm came thundering back, and this time it was unstoppable, crashing into both of us, turning us into a feedback loop of pleasure. Her rippling walls intensified my ejaculations, which drove her even higher.

We both collapsed into puddles of flesh, me atop her, as we struggled to draw enough breath to move. Finally, I slipped to my right side and, with my head resting on her shoulder, gave her a quick lick right behind her ear, and she came again, surprising and delighting me equally. Usually, with her hair down, I'd not have had that access.

"Oh, god, baby," she said, when she could speak again. "That was... without doubt, the best set of orgasms you've ever given me."

"It helps, when we don't have to worry about the girls hearing," I said, cuddling into her.

We kissed for a bit longer, and I'd just kissed her tattoo again, when Cheryl, seemingly from nowhere, said, "I know the first of my scattering spots. It's Ke'e Beach. You know, the beach that inspired my tattoo?" I well remembered it, the last beach on the north shore accessible by road. The road literally ended there, and the trailhead for a hiking trail into the Napali Coast filled the available parking as much as the beach.

"Many years from now, many years from now," I whispered.

It turned out to be just 12 more before she left my life.

~~~~~

December 22nd eventually rolled around, and I was waiting at the gate for my direct morning flight to Lihue Airport, when my name was called. I walked up to the podium, to find that I had been upgraded to first class, which surprised me, since this was a reward trip, which usually put me at the bottom of any upgrade list. I guess I got lucky that the upgrade list was short, even to Hawaii.

Taking my first row aisle seat, I was approached by the flight attendant responsible for first class, and noticed that she was a lovely lady with a beautiful smile, maybe early 30s, brunette, green eyes, with what looked to be a nice figure under a fairly unflattering uniform, with "Jamie" on her name tag. She touched my hand when she delivered my rum and coke, and did it again when she delivered my second one after takeoff. Given a six hour flight time, I knew I'd still be sober when we landed, if I stopped after that, so switched to just diet coke.

She chatted with all of the passengers, but seemed to be spending most of her attention on me. I had to be about fifteen years older than her, but looking around, I actually seemed to be the youngest in the section.

Finally, she had the meal service done, and settled into the jump seat directly across from me, and said, "You seem sad, today, Mr. Gardner. I hope we've been doing a good job?"

I don't really know why, but I opened up to her, telling her that I was on my way to Kauai for the purpose of scattering Cheryl's ashes, not as a pleasure trip, and that was the source of my sadness. I also shared about not being able to bring my daughters along.

"I'm so sorry for your loss. I still hope you get to have some fun while you're on the island, anyway," she said, fully sincere, before getting up to get another passenger a drink. She never got another chance to sit, until we were landing, and she gave me another dazzling smile as she sat, but didn't strike up another conversation.

She did say, "Aloha, Mr. Gardner, have a nice stay," as I prepared to disembark.

I knew this could mean both hello and goodbye, and I returned, "Aloha, Jamie," as I slipped past her onto the jet bridge. I'd checked a suitcase, since it contained the travel urn I'd gotten from the mortuary, with the last of the three bags of her ashes that they had divided for me. So I retrieved the bag from baggage claim, took the short shuttle ride over to the Hertz lot, retrieved my assigned car, a small SUV, from the space, and made the 15 minute drive up 51 and 56 to the Marriott in Kapa'a.

Only to bump right into the crew from my flight, as they were checking into the same hotel. Jamie spotted me, and came over, saying, "Aloha, again, Mr. Gardner."

"You can call me Larry now, Jamie. I'm not your customer now."

"Thank you, Larry. See ya around," she said, as she turned back to the desk clerk.

Another clerk took care of me, and it turned out my room wasn't ready for me, since check in was at 4:00, and it was only 12:30 by this time, but the did give me the wrist band to let me use the pool, and trade-in cards to get towels, along with some other info about the hotel. They said they'd call me when the room was ready. I had left my luggage in the SUV in case this happened, so left it there.

Not really having a desire to swim or go sightseeing until 4:00, I got the clerk to give me a guest code to the WiFi, since my complimentary access didn't start until 4 either, went to the car to retrieve just my tablet, then sat at a table at the edge of the inactive dining room, with a view of the pool and ocean, to wait. I gave my daughters a call to let them know I'd arrived, but got no answer on either of their cells. I left messages for both, as well as sending them texts, and settled in to surf the web.

Something made me look up, just in time to see Jamie cross my eye-line, headed for the pool in a skimpy, but still fairly modest bikini, given that this was a family-oriented resort. Two more of the flight attendants were with her, but my eyes were drawn only to her. The figure I imagined her to have under her uniform was nothing compared to the reality. Breasts I'd imagined to be Cs looked like D's in the bikini, her waist very trim, and her ass, her ass was just incredible, perhaps the finest I'd ever seen in my life, round, firm and high. 'Even better than Cheryl's,' I thought, and felt guilty for thinking it.

By contrast, the other two women looked thin, even though their B cups would attract plenty of attention, if only Jamie weren't there.

She made eye contact with me, just before the three dove into the pool, and I blushed at being caught staring.

I turned back to my tablet, so didn't notice her approach until she sat down, her towel wrapped around her hair, not her body. Darn, but it was tough to make eye contact, instead of staring at those breasts, her nipples straining against the fabric, as the light breeze cooled her skin. "Aloha, Jamie," I managed to croak out. Damn, this girl was lighting me up, and I was grateful I was still in jeans instead of loose shorts that I'd surely be tenting right now, she had me that hard.

"They have you waiting on a room?" she asked, and I nodded. "I see you already got the wrist band for the pool and the card to get a towel, if you wanted to grab your trunks and change in a restroom, and join us in the pool. It beats sitting here for three more hours."

"I don't know," I replied. I really wasn't in the mood to swim.

She tapped my on the wrist, before saying, "What would your wife be telling you to do, if she could talk to you right now? Mope over her? Or take a pretty lady up on her invitation for some fun?"

"I'm not moping," I said, knowing it was a total lie. "I just want to take this obligation I'm fulfilling seriously." Besides, I didn't think I could stand up at that moment, without making it obvious how stiff she was making me.

"Have it your way, Larry. I won't force you," she said, standing and walking back to the pool. The sway of her hips had my eyes glued to her ass, covered by still-wet bikini bottoms that were almost transparent, and when I saw her two friends watching me watch her, I knew I was about to get busted. Sure enough, they said a few words, and Jamie turned back to look at me, this triumphant smile on her face. I hoped they couldn't see the blush that spread across my face.

It was the first time all day that Cheryl wasn't the first thought on my mind, and that realization made me feel guilty, again. I was supposed to move on after taking care of her ashes, not during the trip. Even that thought made me guiltier. Did I want this? To have a fling with a woman I barely knew, whose age was clearly closer to my daughters than mine?

~~~~~

I managed to keep my eyes away from Jamie after that, and finally the front desk had my 4th floor room ready. No sooner did I get my bags into it, then I checked the very small balcony, and found I had a view of both the ocean and the pool, and my eyes were drawn straight to Jamie, reclining on a lounge chair, her body facing my room. Even from that distance, I could see her camel toe, as her legs were parted slightly, and her nipples were again poking into her top. I could barely breathe, and was hard as a rock again before I managed two more breaths.

I had no choice but to strip and lay on the bed and jerk one off, not in line of sight to her any more, so I wasn't at risk of being seen, but with the images of her already burned into my brain, and the sounds of the pool to remind me it was there. It took no time at all, and I was spraying my cum onto my chest and abs, one stream coming close to coating my neck or face.

I felt ashamed of myself, as if I'd just cheated on Cheryl, as I showered my cum off of me under cold water, then I got dressed in tshirt and the bathing suit I'd brought so I could do the scattering. I couldn't bring myself to go down to the pool, though, and switched to jeans shorts.