by Lisa Ferrari
“Imagine you’re the world’s first female Navy SEAL, right? You’re out on a mission with the guys and Tank gets shot in the legs and can’t walk, how would you extract him? You carried Chavez and Newberry. But imagine carrying Tank.”
“I’d probably be able to carry him if it were downhill. I’d probably have to drag him. But not very far.”
“Well, all sexism or chauvinism aside, that’s one of the considerations that has to be addressed for a woman to be a SEAL. Or for anyone to be a SEAL.”
“How much do you weigh?”
“About two-sixty.”
“So Tank is only a little heavier than you. When we get home, or when my legs stop aching in about a month, let’s see if I can carry you.”
“You squatted two-twenty-five so you can probably carry me for a few seconds. When we get home, carry me around the pool and if you get tired, just fall into the water. How do your legs feel now?”
“Tired. Tender.”
“How do your knees feel?”
“Tired. Tender.”
“Bad?”
“No, just a little sore. But I can feel it in my joints a little, not just my muscles.”
“Yeah, connective tissue takes longer to hypertrophy than muscle does. We’ll do upper body today.”
“I thought we were going to rest today.”
“We are. We’re going to rest by the pool, definitely eat another one of those ridiculous hamburgers, and then tonight we can hit the hotel fitness center for some upper body. We’ll see how we feel, though. Maybe we’ll be too tired. It’s a fine line between pussing out and skipping a workout, and knowing your body is broken down and needs time to repair itself. Sometimes choosing to train is actually counterproductive. And sometimes taking a day or two or maybe even three gives your body time to heal and recharge and then you can hit it again with even more intensity.”
We make our way back to our suite while we’re talking. We put on our bathing suits.
Kellan gets hard watching me slowly undress and then try to put on my bikini. He ends up helping me. He has me sit on the bed and he kneels, naked, on the floor in front of me and lifts my legs slowly one at a time to put on my bikini bottoms. He asks me where my legs are sore. I show him, pretty much from my knees all the way up to my hips. He gently rubs my thighs, softly.
But I’m staring at his penis. It’s there, between his legs, and it’s huge. “Kellan, your cock is looking at me. God, it’s big.”
“It’s probably all that watermelon I ate with my eggs at breakfast.”
“Watermelon makes your penis bigger?”
“Absolutely. It’s loaded with L-Arginine, which is a precursor to Nitrous Oxide, which is a gas secreted by the endothelium. You know what the endothelium is?”
“No.”
“It’s a thin membrane that lines the inside of every inch of blood vessels in our body. I don’t remember the exact number, but there’s something like twenty-six thousand miles of blood vessels in our bodies. That’s like flying from California to New York and back again four times. It’s amazing. The endothelium actually secretes Nitrous Oxide which helps with blood flow and stuff.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I read about it a few years ago. A couple of American scientists got the Nobel Prize for Medicine for discovering it. Up to that point, no one had any idea that the endothelium could secrete a gas. Crazy stuff.”
“So how does it make your penis bigger?”
“It increases blood flow. Walnuts do the same thing. They’re also high in L-Arginine. Whenever I eat walnuts, I can always feel my scrotum get bigger. It sticks to the insides of my thighs.”
“So, is that what Viagra does?”
“No, Viagra was discovered by accident when they were researching blood pressure medications. Erectile dysfunction is one of the symptoms of heart disease. See, when you get an erection and blood flows into the penis, Viagra blocks the enzyme that makes the blood flow back out of the penis. So blood flows in and stays in. It makes the penis really big and hard.”
“Have you ever taken it?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Why not? For fun. To see what it would do.”
“What did it do?”
“It made my dick hard in about twenty minutes. I was sitting in front of my computer, doing email, not even thinking about sex, and, all of a sudden, it slowly started getting hard. And then it got really hard. Harder than it usually gets. And it stayed that way for about an hour and a half.”
“Who did you take it with?”
“You mean, who was the benefactor?”
“Stacy?”
“No, not Stacy. Actually, I was alone.”
“Why’d you take it when you were alone?”
“I wanted to see what it would do.”
“And did you end up using it again with a woman?”
“No, I never did.”
“Why not?”
“I was concerned that any woman I would use it with would somehow find out or would know that I’d taken it and would get upset because I had to take Viagra to get it up in order to be with her. Which is of course not the case at all. I can get it up just fine ninety-nine percent of the time. Viagra is just for fun, to occasionally give you that little extra boost, you know?”
“Do you have any?”
“Here with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I keep it in my shaving kit, so I always know where it is.”
“Can I see it?”
Kellan goes to the bathroom and comes back with a little white-and-blue box. I open it and take out the little foil blister pack with four blue diamond-shaped pills.
“How do you know this is really Viagra and not a fake? I heard there are a lot of fakes out there and they’re just sugar or something.”
“I got it through my doctor from a pharmacy. So I’m pretty sure it’s real.”
“Pretty sure?”
“I’m sure. It’s real.”
“Take one.”
“Now?”
“Sure.”
“I thought you wanted to go lie by the pool.”
“I do.”
“Let’s save it for tonight. After we train we can come back to the room and I’ll take it and we can take a shower and you can see what it does.”
I look down at Kellan’s penis, which is still mostly erect. It’s so thick. I’ve never been so obsessed with the male anatomy until I met Kellan. I reach down and squeeze it. Kellan gasps with pleasure. “I want you inside me.”
Without a word, he reaches his arms under my legs and grabs my hips and gently scoots my behind to the edge of the bed. I try to spread my legs but I can’t, they’re too sore. Kellan grabs them under my knees and supports them. He moves forward on his knees until the shaft of his penis is resting against my clitoris. He works his hips back and forth and slides the length of himself up and down, up and down.
I’m instantly wet.
Kellan rocks his hips back and the head of his penis slides down to my opening, and he gently and very slowly enters me.
God I love it when he does it slowly like this.
He barely moves. He probably figures my vagina is sore, too, after last night’s beach adventure with the SEALs.
I think my vagina is the only part of my body that doesn’t hurt. Although if Kellan takes Viagra tonight, that will likely change.
He moves slowly in and out of me repeatedly.
I feel myself building and tensing involuntarily, my PC muscles and sphincters and everything else reacting to Kellan’s body. I want him to go faster. I want more. I want to come so badly.
Before I know it, my breath hitches, and five seconds later I’m coming.
I grab desperately for fistfuls of the bed sheets. My abs are tensed hard.
“Yes, Claire,” Kellan says quietly, “come on my cock. Oh, God… I can feel you coming. I c
an feel your come. You’re getting so wet.”
Kellan puts his head back and shuts his eyes tight. His pecs flex and his hips pulsate and I know he’s coming, too.
He erupts deep inside me.
It’s my favorite part.
He stays deep inside me as we both catch our breath.
“Wow,” he says.
“What?”
“That was a good one. I came really hard.”
“Yeah, I could tell.”
“Really? How?”
“When you orgasm, your penis gets so hard. I swear sometimes I can almost feel it lifting me up. I can only imagine it getting even harder when you take Viagra.”
“Yeah, we’ll see what happens.”
Kellan kisses me tenderly for a few minutes and then slowly withdraws so he may resume dressing me.
I’m replete in a way I don’t understand, knowing his semen is inside me. It turns me on in a way that’s new to me, a way I have difficulty articulating in my own mind. But it’s so personal, so intimate. Part of his body was inside my body. And now his semen still is inside me. It makes me smile and feel giddy and it kinda makes me want to make love some more.
We gather our things and head to the pool.
We find two lounge chairs and an umbrella. Kellan examines the umbrella thoroughly. He keeps looking at the sky.
“What are you looking at?”
“The sun. It’s going to trace a path through the sky that way,” and he points, “so if we take these chairs, we’ll be shaded most of the day, so we won’t get too hot.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” I squeeze Kellan’s delectable butt as I deposit my stuff on the chair.
We sit down and proceed to rub sunblock on ourselves.
“Can I do that?” Kellan asks.
“Sure.” I hand him the tube and lie back so he can do my front.
He squirts some on his hands and gently rubs it up and down my thighs and my stomach and all over my chest. His fingers dip inside my swimsuit and caress my nipples.
I’m instantly horny again. I don’t know what’s with me.
“Turn over.”
I lie on my front and Kellan applies sunscreen to my back and the backs of my legs and my butt. God it feels good. Like a massage. Like our couples’ massage in Monterey, only better because it’s Kellan rubbing me.
When I turn over again and take the sunscreen to do him, I can see he’s hard again inside his little board shorts.
“Wow,” I mutter. I’m vaguely aware that I’m literally licking my lips.
“You like that?”
I nod. “I want it in my mouth.”
“Should we go back to the room? Or go find a secluded spot on the beach?”
“Let’s save it for tonight.”
“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Claire.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“I mean we just did it like ten minutes ago and I’m already hard again. That never happens.”
We relax on the lounge chairs and begin to read. Kellan continues reading Goblet. I’m thrilled that he actually likes the story and is entertained, rather than simply blowing it off as some fluffy kids’ books. He says he really likes Moaning Myrtle.
I open the book I bought last night at the hotel gift shop and proceed to read about the mysterious death of this woman Kate Morgan who was found dead on a set of stairs. She checked into the hotel under a fake name. I immediately speculate that she was there to meet her paramour and when he showed up, it was to break things off. In a fit of sadness, she drank some poison or something.
Or perhaps she simply died of a broken heart.
I can imagine the feeling. If I lost Kellan now, I’d want to die. I glance over at him. He smiles at me and reaches out and rubs the top of my thigh with his big hand. I can feel the calluses from all the weightlifting. I like it. He calls the calluses trophies. He says they’re something you have to earn, and not something you can buy or have merely given to you.
Awhile later, we get hungry. Kellan calls Kim at the Concierge desk and asks her to please send a repeat of last night’s meal. The same server, Manuel, brings it. Manuel seems very pleased to see us again. He’s grinning ear to ear. Once he’s distributed our order, Kellan tips him, saying, “Do me a favor, Manuel–”
“Please, call me Manny.”
“Okay. Do me a favor, Manny, and share that with Kim at the Concierge desk.”
“You got it, Mister Kearns.”
“Call me Kellan. Thanks, Manny.”
“My pleasure, Kellan.”
Manny hands Kellan a card and tells us to let him know if we need anything else.
Kellan and I devour our burgers. They’re every bit as delicious as they were last night.
“Is it okay that we’re off our nutrition plan like this?”
“Sure. As long as it’s not all the time. When we get home, we’ll get back on big time, real strict. Until then, we have permission to enjoy ourselves and indulge in whatever we want. We’re on vacation, so let’s act like it. You want a drink?”
“What kind of drink?”
“A margarita or a daiquiri or something fruity and tropical? Or a beer?”
“I thought you don’t drink.”
“For the most part I don’t. But we can get virgin drinks or O’Dool’s non-alcoholic beer. I could seriously go for a cold beer right now.”
Kellan flags down a passing cocktail waitress wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts. I order a virgin pina colada and Kellan gets an O’Dool’s. We taste each other’s drinks when they arrive. I love it when we share food. And the cold beer does taste good with the burger and fries and ketchup. Kellan repeatedly feeds me French fries. I love it when he feeds me.
“What was that card Manny gave you?” I ask in between sips of sweet, cold, coconutty pina colada.
“It has his cell number on the back. He aims to please.”
“Clearly. I like that about this hotel.”
“Plus I tipped him another hundred bucks. Plus a hundred for Kim.”
“Another hundred? Meaning you already tipped him a hundred? And her, too?”
“Yeah, last night. I don’t think they normally send burgers from the restaurant out to the pool so late at night, so I wanted to make sure we showed our appreciation. A hundred bucks is always a nice way to show your appreciation.”
“Two hundred last night plus two hundred now, that’s four hundred dollars for two hamburgers.”
“And worth every penny.”
“No, seriously, that’s a lot of money. Isn’t it?”
“It depends. If it assures that we’ll get the kind of service we want, then no, it isn’t. I always tip heavy, you know that. Even when we go to Mel’s, I tip heavy. People know I have money. They see the Huracan, all bright green and completely ridiculous sitting in the Mel’s parking lot late at night, or they see the white Mercedes with the top down, and now everyone on Instagram knows about the Mister Beaumont, and they know I have money. I used to tip thirty percent, but then I realized I need to put down at least a fifty. Then I said screw it and started handing out hundreds. That seems to work.”
“So when we go to Mel’s and each order an omelet and the bill is, like, twenty bucks, you put down a fifty? Or a hundred?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a five hundred percent tip.”
“If I don’t tip like that, I come off looking like a cheap asshole. But even in a place like this, where people don’t see us roll up in an expensive car or they don’t know who I am, it’s always wise to tip at least thirty percent. That way, the server appreciates the tip and remembers us. So we know we’ll get great service next time.”
“Next time?”
“Definitely. I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t mind coming back here.” Kellan smiles his dazzling smile and takes a monster bite of his burger. It’s so sexy watching him eat. Which is another thing I never thought I’d say. I always loved watching Brad Pitt eat in Oce
an’s Eleven. I think everyone did. He’s always eating in that movie. In nearly every scene. It’s some sort of funny character affectation or something, I guess. But it’s also very, very sexy. All fingers and lips and tongues. Mmm. Gets me going.
Seeing Kellan do it in person is even better. Plus I love seeing him enjoy himself. His mouth is full, his cheeks are bulging like a trumpet player, and he puts the green beer bottle to his lips and drains it. He burps. “Excuse me.”
“Excuse you.”
Even his belching is charming and endearing to me somehow. Tommy Warcraft used to burp the alphabet when we ate Taco Bell and he would drink from a giant plastic cup of Dr. Pepper. But that was different. It seemed funny at the time, and I laughed, but it was also rather lowbrow.
Kellan is the opposite. Very classy. He clutches a handful of long, golden French fries and dips them heavily in ketchup. To my surprise, he holds them up to my mouth, feeding them to me.
I open and take all of them down to his fingers.
He dips the rest in ketchup and eats them himself.
I love it when he feeds me.
And I’m not self-conscious about eating in front of him.
I hold up my pina colada for him and he sucks on the skinny red straw. When I take a drink, I’m conscious of Kellan’s saliva on my straw. I cradle the straw with my tongue. But the straw flops away from me. It moves back and forth along the rim of the glass and I’m chasing it with my tongue sticking out.
“You better stop doing that,” Kellan says.
“Why?”
“Because it’s turning me on.”
I finally wrangle the straw with my tongue and slide my lips slowly up and down it, fantasizing that it’s him.
“I think you need another pina colada.”
“Okay.”
“And I definitely need another beer.”
Kellan waves at the same cocktail waitress and holds up his empty beer and my pina colada glass.
The waitress comes over less than a minute later with fresh drinks.
“That was fast,” I marvel.
She smiles at me. “Enjoy.”
Once she’s out of earshot, I say to Kellan, “Let me guess, you tipped her a hundred, too.”
Kellan smiles and takes a long drink of beer. “Holy crap that tastes good. But the beer makes me want pizza, because that is a divine combination. Like coffee and chocolate.”