F5: Desperate Times and Measures

I saw a tiny smile turn up the corner's of her mouth, which she tried to hide. I couldn't help it. I chuckled. She giggled. We ended up laughing unable to stop. I held her close, feeling her laughter. We had almost recovered, when she slapped my chest. "Jesus, Dan, I can't believe we both forgot how to fuck."

That brought on another attack of the giggles, which ended with me on my back, and her laying on top of me. She sat up, and grinned. "Remind me baby, it's been so long. This thing here," she said, holding me by the shaft. "I know it's supposed to go somewhere."

"Honestly, I think I'm getting Alzheimer's. I know that it's suppose to go in you. You might want to try putting it where you go ca-ca."

Her palm slapped down on my chest loudly. "You son-of-a-bitch! Two years, and that's where you want to put it?"

"Unless you know a better place. I can't remember, remember?"

She gave me a look, the look, and squeezed my shaft hard. "Let's try this again." She rose up a little, poised over my cock head. "Look honey. I think he likes me. Can I play with him?"

"Baby doll, he loves you, and he's yours to play with for the rest of our lives. You alone get to decide where he goes."

"Mmm. I like the sound of that. I might have to try him everywhere, but for now, I think I know where he belongs."

She lowered herself carefully, taking her time, until she was sitting with her full weight on me, my aching cock back where he belonged. "God, I've missed this so much, Dan." She closed her eyes, moving her hips slowly in tiny little circles, hugging herself. "Too fucking long, baby. Way too fucking long. Promise me baby, you're gonna let me have this big guy when I need it."

"As long as you'll do the same," I said, grabbing her hips and pushing into her, straining to bury every last millimeter inside of her.

She gave me a sexy little smile, and started rocking back and forth. I could feel her pussy squeezing me at the end of each stroke. It was too much, too soon, and it had been way too fucking long. I grabbed her ass, and pumped her hard for a few more strokes, then unloaded inside of her. It couldn't have been a minute altogether, and damn if she didn't squeal as I erupted, coming with me.

She laid on top of me, trembling, as I gave her a last few weak thrusts. She looked me in the eye, and kissed me softly. "I love you so much, baby. But, damn! we're out of practice. I have been fantasizing about a lot more. That sucked."

She delivered the line grinning, and when I laughed with her, she popped my guy out of her, starting another giggle rampage. "We're gonna need a lot of practice, baby," I told her.

"No time like the present."

She was right, and that teasing little mouth of hers helped me get ready for a second try. That one went a lot better. A whole lot better, thank you very much.

The third time was almost as good as the fantasies.

* * * *

I awoke with my wife in my arms, amidst an earthquake and thunder. Her eyes popped open, and she grabbed me. I knew she felt it too.

The ground kept shaking, but so too did the thunder, on and on and on.

"Fuckin' Manolo," I growled, and my wife giggled.

She got up and grabbed my shirt, putting it on. At least she left me my shorts. I followed her to the door, and we stepped out on the porch. A friggin' bulldozer was chewing up the earth, not twenty feet from the house.

Manolo stepped up to the porch, wearing a smile bigger than Deedee's. "Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Dan. My gift to you. We make the two properties, one, yes?"

It was kind of late to say no. The trees were already falling as the bulldozer cut a swath through the jungle, toward my road.

"Say thank you to the nice man, dear."

"Yes, thank you Manolo. That's very kind of you." It was. It would have cost me at least a thousand dollars. Somehow, I was pretty sure he wasn't going to pay anywhere near that.

"Do you want to leave this house here, or put it with the others. We still have one more good foundation ready."

I looked down at her, and she shook her head. "No, for now, let's leave it here. We still have a lot of things to work out. Just the road for now."

"And we connect the trails, of course."

I looked down at my wife again, and she nodded, grinning.

"Of course. We've got to connect the trails." I looked at her again, raising my eyebrows, to see if there were any more surprises.

"It would be nice if we could get somebody to move my stuff, honey."

Manolo smiled, and nodded back to his truck. Two ladies got out, carrying boxes. Then he turned back to us. "David say breakfast will be ready in," he checked his watch, "eighteen minutes. He also says if you lie about his rice, he will spit in your eggs."

Sandy took me by the hand, and led me barefoot down the trail, back to my beach house. Our beach house now. We had three days before the girls would be there, and a lot of ground to make up.

* * * *

Epilogue.

I haven't gone back. Sandy did a few times. I thought I'd have to for the wedding, but Jenna decided to hold it at Dan's Haven. Krystal too. When Krystal got pregnant, I thought that was it. No more getting out of it. Nope, I don't know what the hell is wrong with my women, but she wanted to be here for that too. At least the medical services in Belize are stupidly cheap.

Sandy assures me I can go back if I want, without having to fear getting locked up. So far I haven't wanted to.

We've got a dock now. A twenty-six foot boat. Four 'guest' cabins that get a surprising amount of use, considering how far away we are from everyone. Another hundred feet of beachfront, with better sand, and a solid retaining wall. Krystal's husband Aaron is trying to put in a zipline, that will go over 200 ft. He's been working at it for two days. He'll learn. I'll give him another hour or so, then I'll have Manolo put it up. Did I say Aaron? That's right. Jimmy was a flash in the pan. Moved in and back out again within a year. Aaron's a good man, and a good husband and father.

Jenna's trying to get me to install a dive hut, with our own compressor and filter. She says it's too much trouble to travel the mile next door to the dive shop. I keep reminding her I'm not made of money, but she just looks around the place and smirks.

I'm trying to hold out, but it's difficult. If you have daughters you know what I mean.

We're not rich. Not even close. I still work five days a week. Sandy holds yoga classes for the folks next door. It doesn't pay a lot, but it helps, and it keeps her busy. We never hit the lotto. Didn't find gold. Never sold the property for a huge profit. Just the opposite in fact. We bought the property next to Sandy's and it gave us the entire shoreline from the retirement resort to the lagoon. We like not having neighbors on top of us. We enjoy the privacy. Sandy's birthday suit is still her favorite outfit.

We still have the glass coffee table, and even though sometimes it's a painful reminder, it still displays a handkerchief, a book, and a knife.

Sometimes we'll take the book out and page through it. We don't talk about why it got burned, and the kids know to leave it alone.

We went through hell and back. It was terrible, and difficult. Sometimes I feel guilty. Not about putting a knife in that smarmy bastard's gut, guys like him deserve it. No, it still sticks in my craw that I cheated on my wife. Yeah, there were a lot of mitigating circumstances, but I regret it. She never, ever was unfaithful to me. I stopped her, I know. And emotionally, that's a different issue. But still.

I know she still feels guilty on occasion. We've talked about it a couple of times. She knows she did wrong, and for all the myriad excuses she was handed, it still comes down to she did it because she wanted to and thought she could get away with it. Thankfully, neither is true anymore. I believe that. Hell, the woman punished herself harder than I ever could have. I loved her, even when she was a selfish bitch.

Then again, she loved me when I was a heartless cheating bastard. My only excuse was my heart had been torn out and discarded, leaving me heartless.

We've kept our promise about always being there for each other when we need it. When the kids see us walking down to Sandy's old casita, they tease us and give us a hard time. We know it's just teasing. Sometimes we walk down there and don't do anything but watch the sunset. Just to jerk their chains.

I guess I could go on and on about what was uncovered at our Maya ruins, or about our relationships with David, Manolo, and Marta, God rest her soul. I could brag about my genius grandchildren, or talk about the hurricane that almost ruined all of our dreams. I could write about her greenhouse experiment, and thriving garden. Damn, there's a lot I could talk about.

But Sandy's in her favorite outfit, giving me that look. No, not the look, thank God. That look. I think I'm gonna take her down to her casita, and we ain't gonna watch the sunset.

So this is the end. Of the story, I mean. At least the written part. I hope the real story never ends.

* * * *

This story is an entry into FAWC (Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge). If you enjoyed the story, your vote would be appreciated. Thanks.