Saralinda
Chapter 10: Saralinda

Copyright© 2010 by Gray Beard

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 10: Saralinda - Gary stops a young woman from jumping off a bridge, and then whisks her away to see if she'd like to live a different kind of life.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   Romantic   Harem   Polygamy/Polyamory   Slow  

Moira went to get breakfast. I was still in bed. I missed her.

Therapist, mother, sister, friend, lover? I'd never had any of those except a mother, and that was so long ago ... How could I know what she should be for me?

She filled my thoughts! Holding her. Being held by her. Caring for me.

But she left me to go to Gary, to get love from Gary. I tried to hate him, but I couldn't. Gary had saved me. Gary had brought me to Moira. Gary was letting me stay.

I imagined the two of them together in his bed. Her long red hair, his warm smile, his eyes. His eyes! I could see them kissing. I could feel her breasts. I tried imagining Moira at the aft rail like Kate, and Gary behind her. No. That didn't seem like her. Moira wouldn't want something so impersonal.

Kate had been getting fucked, I realized. I'd never understood the word like that before. Kate was getting fucked, but Moira would want to be loved. I wanted to be loved.

My imagination raged, picturing the two of them – Gary and Moira – together. I could almost feel it. Tongues and caresses and – what would fucking feel like? No, what would loving feel like?

With a panic, I realized I was playing with myself and moaning. And then I remembered that my father wasn't here to catch me at it. Nor his ... his bitch of a woman! I could do this, I realized. Moira wouldn't mind. She'd probably be happy.

And I had an image of me lying on the bed, my fingers in my ... in my pussy, with Moira on one side of me and Gary on the other, the two of them taking turns kissing me and...

And I came. Oh god ... And they weren't there.

And as I wiped my sticky fingers on my belly, I felt so lonely that I almost pulled the covers up over my head to hide myself from the world.

But then the memory of Moira's voice came back to me. If you're getting up, the wanting has to come from you. I did want to get up. One deep breath, and then –oomph. I was up.

The shower felt good. Brushing my teeth felt good. Putting on a skirt and blouse, I reveled in wearing what I felt like wearing without worrying about what my father would say. When I was dressed, I looked in the mirror. I was still me, but I looked different somehow. Maybe it was my eyes.

Opening the door, I was thrust into the sunshine. I was on a sheltered stretch of deck, out of the wind, and I could really feel the warmth. Seattle was never quite warm enough. Here it could almost be too hot, but I liked it, even if the sun made me blink. I looked towards the front of the boat and saw Gary standing there in the wind. I was hungry, but I decided to go up and say hello.

There's a strong breeze at the bow, and more of a sense of motion than the big boat gives generally. And the wind is loud in your ears. I knew I'd have to speak up if he was going to hear me.

"Hi Gary."

He turned and looked at me. Those eyes. God, would I ever get used to them? He smiled, which made me smile back. I swear I couldn't not.

"Good morning, Saralinda."

His eyes gleamed above his grin. Then they flickered off to the side, focused away from the boat. I followed his gaze.

There was a dark bird flying low over the water, moving quite fast it seemed, though it wasn't flapping. How could a bird fly without flapping? I lost sight of it behind a wave.

"What was it?"

"Sorry," he said. "I'm not meaning to be rude. I do this all the time. My eyes catch sight of a bird, and I look away from the person I'm with. It's a shearwater – probably a wedge-tailed."

"A wedge-what?"

"A Wedge-tailed Shearwater, Puffinus pacificus. It's a pelagic bird that uses the winds over the ocean surface to fly without having to flap much – it's called dynamic soaring. It searches the waves for things to eat."

"Pelagic?"

Gary laughed. "Pelagic birds are birds of the ocean. Sorry. Look, there's another one," he said pointing.

I saw it, and then a smaller bird behind it. When I pointed it out to Gary, he brought his binoculars up to his face.

"Petrel. Looks pretty dark. Maybe a Bullwer's."

"Could I try looking?"

Gary seemed surprised. "Sure, but let me get you a different pair – just a second." He dashed to the dining room, which was the first room back from the bow, and emerged a moment later with a second pair of binoculars. "You'll probably find these easier to use. They only eight-power, and they've got a bigger field of view."

 
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