I stepped into the shower and closed my eyes as the warm water beat against my hypersensitive body. I opened my eyes as I felt Jak climb in behind me. Without speaking, he reached for my body wash and squeezed it onto my loofah. As I felt the sponge against my skin and inhaled a hint of the floral scent, I closed my eyes. I shivered as the soap filled sponge pressed against my breasts and slid down my torso and between my legs. As his hand pressed into my inner thighs, I felt his cock against the back of my butt cheek. I opened my eyes and pressed my hands against the inner shower wall as I arched my back and lifted myself on my tip-toes.
I want it, Jak.
I need…
I bit my lower lip as his cock pressed into me. His hands slid along my wet soapy body as his hips began to slap against my ass. As the hot water beat against my skin, his hands pressed against my breasts firmly, lifting me from being bent over to standing erect. He dragged his teeth along my neck as he turned me away from the warm water and against the center of the shower’s inner structure. With my face against the tile wall, he lifted me slightly with each stroke of his cock. He reached for the shower head and repositioned it to spray the hot water against my right side. Clutched in his arms with his forearms along my torso and his hands squeezing my breasts, he forced himself in and out of me like a man possessed. The angle and the pressure of his cock against my g-spot drove me insane. I was done. I stood on my toes and stretched my calves. He pressed harder against me.
Now forcefully pounding himself in and out of my swollen mound, Jak was proving a point. Age had nothing to do with anything at this juncture. Jak could out-fuck me, outlast me, and out run me. As my wet body slid up and down the surface of the tile wall – literally being lifted from my feet by his cock, I felt myself begin to climax. My head became a whirlwind of meaningless thoughts. I blinked my eyes and stared at the wall.
What the fuck is happening?
His cock worked some type of Navy SEAL magic against my civilian pussy. I felt myself clench against the shaft of his cock. This was going to be huge. As he continued to press deeper into me, my body went limp against the wall. My head exploded into every thought and feeling I had ever encountered in a lifetime of feelings – all at once. I opened my mouth. It happened again. He held himself deep inside of me and began to scream. As his voice echoed throughout the shower and bathroom, his cock swelled. I held my breath and waited as he lifted me from the floor of the shower and against the wall. I exhaled loudly as he exploded his warmth inside of me.
He continued to scream a cry of love, passion, and of proving he could cum twice in one sexual setting. My mind and body expanded into a time and place like no other. I felt as if I had become immortal. A tingling sensation filled me as I flattened my face into the wet wall and reached a level of climactic pleasure I was certain so very few have ever known.
Jak Anderson Kennedy was not the man of my dreams. I never dreamed of wanting a man before I met Jak. Jak happened into my life not as a gift or an answer to one of life’s many unanswered questions. I had lived my life as a fractured soul; a misguided and uncertain form of human life with no direction. Assembled of a thousand small pieces of what would never become one, I was truly broken. A large piece of me was missing. No more useful than a clock without its hands, I was incomplete. I needed something to snap into place and allow me to become whole. Try as I might to force something into the empty space within me, I lived a life in denial of my brokenness. Jak was not a compliment to my life, or an object of my desire.
Jak was the last remaining piece of me.
He tucked the towel into my cleavage and lifted me from my feet. Exhausted and filled with love, I sighed as Jak carried me into the bedroom. After lowering me to the bed, he pushed his hands onto his hips as I relaxed onto my back. With a towel around his waist and droplets of water covering his muscular body, Jak stood before me smiling.
You torturous prick.
Without speaking, he leaned over me and removed a pillow from the bed. Now standing beside me clutching the corner of the pillow, he grinned as it hung heavily from his grip. Eventually, after a few very long moments of admiring Jak, my eyes fell closed.
Whack!
I felt a dull abrupt pressure against my stomach. I opened my eyes. He swung the pillow again.
Whack!
“Tired?” he howled.
Still not quite mentally competent, I blinked my eyes.
Whack!
“Too exhausted to fight back?” he asked as he raised the pillow over his head.
In what I’m sure Jak would describe as an evasive maneuver, I rolled away from him repeatedly, and grabbed a pillow as I fell to the floor.
The feather pillows were cheap ones from Target, and leaked feathers terribly. Of a typical morning, there would be a dozen feathers littering the floor from just sleeping on them. They were, however, simply lovely to sleep with. As I rose from my squatted position and peered over the top of the comforter, Jak leaped onto the bed. As his body bounced into position, I swung the pillow toward his head.
Whack!
My towel fell to the floor. As he looked down at the bed and attempted to recover, I gripped the pillow with both hands and swung with all my might. Heavily, it came down on the back of his head.
Whack!
“Did that feel like a tired woman swung it?” I screamed as I ran naked into the living room.
Jak immediately followed behind me.
We chased each other through the living room naked for fifteen minutes. No one won and no one lost. Me sitting on one couch and Jak sitting on the other, we each held the pillows against our naked bodies. White feathers filled the air. Jak was a gorgeous man in ways no one would ever know. As Jak stared at me admiringly, I stood, dropped my pillow onto the couch, and walked naked to the easel. After a few minutes of cleanup and preparation, I began to paint. I grinned as I painted a few white feathers in contrast to the purples, blues, and reds surrounding my face. After what seemed like only a matter of minutes, the room began to darken. I looked out the window. The setting sun was all I needed to see to bring me to the realization several hours had passed. I stood back and admired my finished work. Typically, I would sign my first name in the lower right hand corner. If Jak was going to hang this in his apartment, I preferred everyone who entered his home to know who I was. I proudly wanted to claim Jak and bring attention to the fact he was mine.
I squeezed yellow paint onto the palette, and dobbed the brush into it heavily. In four inch tall yellow letters across the bottom of the painting, I stroked my name.
Karter
I turned to face the couch. Naked and partially covered with the pillow, Jak slept. I lifted the painting from the easel and quietly carried it to the couch opposite where Jak slept. I leaned the freshly painted canvas against the cushion so he could see it when he woke up. I lifted my pillow from the floor and walked toward Jak. Softly, I lowered myself onto the couch beside him and pressed my skin to his. As I pulled the pillow to my body for a little warmth, I looked across the room at my work.
I looked beautiful.
The bold yellow name across the bottom of the painting would make clear to anyone who entered his apartment who I was.
Stay away bitch, he’s mine.
JAK. A three month anniversary may be nothing measurable to most people, but to me it was as significant as landing on the moon. Karter was scheduled to leave town and make an appearance at an art exhibit in Dallas, Texas over the weekend. Although I would have loved to accompany her, the tight schedule for the event and the fact my mother’s air conditioner was broken would prevent me from going with her. We agreed the two days away from each other would serve the two of us as a reminder of the depth of our love and affection for each other.
Soon it would be fall, and the outdoor activities would shrink as the weather cooled and the days became shorter. As strange as it seemed to say, I looked forward to autumn and winter with Karter. Spending time with her in her home made me feel as i
f we were an actual couple. Having a life with her outside of eating, movies, and social activities would be satisfying on an entirely different level. Having a home life with Karter would satisfy me greatly.
The waitress smiled as she removed our plates from the table. Karter sat back in the booth and sighed as she rubbed her stomach. Adrian’s had become our preferred place to eat out. Having felt guilty for leaving before we actually ate the first time, we soon returned. The meal was fabulous, and the service was second to none. Each time I asked Karter where she wanted to eat, she rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Adrian’s.
Nervously, I leaned into the center of the table, “So are you excited about this weekend?”
“No. I’m damned near sick about it. Do you realize since the day we met, the very first day, we haven’t spent so much as one day apart?” she shrugged.
I was well aware. To think of her being away from me caused me to feel uneasy. Karter had not become a part of my life or even my significant other; I needed her to simply survive. To dream of being without Karter was not to think of being alone, but to think of not even being. Karter had become my life support system.
“I’m well aware. That’s what makes your weekend good and bad both. It’ll be good for us,” I sighed.
“Whatever. Good for you. Fine. Speak for yourself. It’s going to kill me. I hate to even think of doing this. I used to love art shows. Stupid fuckers will come up to me for the entire weekend and hit on me. They always do. I’ll just tell them I’m spoken for,” she sighed.
I swallowed a lump which had developed in my throat and reached into my pocket. As I pulled my hand out and rested it into my lap, I took a shallow breath. She was shaking her head lightly and looking around the restaurant as if the thought of being away disgusted her. I reached my cupped hand over the center of the table and curled my index finger toward my palm. At some point in time, each and every time we ate at Adrian’s, this had become my signature. Me motioning her to the center of the table to whisper in her ear and kiss her. As Karter smiled and leaned into the edge of the table, I moved forward in my seat and met her in half way. I puckered my lips and closed my eyes slightly. As her soft mouth met mine and we embraced in a shallow kiss, my body tingled from head to toe.
She’s the one, Jak.
The only one.
I uncupped my hand and pointed into my palm, “Wear this if you’ll honor me by doing so. It may keep them away for a little more than the weekend.”
The diamond engagement ring glistened in the dimly lit lighting of the restaurant. She looked into my hand and stared.
“Jak?” she raised her hands slowly to her cheeks.
“Jak?”
I swallowed heavily again and looked up, “What I feel for you defines love in the purest sense, Karter. It’s inevitable. We’re destined to spend our lives together, forever. Begin forever with me. Karter Wilson, will you marry me?”
The words came easier than I expected. Karter reached toward my palm and hesitated. As she looked at me, her eyes glistened. They were brown tonight with green specs, her natural color. Slowly, her mouth formed a smile of deep satisfaction. Her fingers hovered over my open hand. As reassurance, I nodded my head slightly. She carefully pinched the ring between her thumb and forefinger and held it in her hand.
“If it’s not what you were expecting…”
“Just stop,” she sighed as she wiped the back of her free hand against her eyes.
“Yes. Shit Jak, I’m sorry. I forgot to answer. Yes. Fuck yes, I’ll marry you. That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard. Will I? Jesus. I was placed on this earth for you. You and I both know it. Now aren’t you supposed to put this big fucker on my finger?” her voice cracked as she attempted to speak.
I reached out and took the ring from between her fingers and pinched it between my thumb and forefinger. As she leveled her shaking hand over the center of the table, I raised my eyebrows and slid the ring onto her finger, “So it’s a yes?”
“Yes,” she sighed as she looked down at the ring.
The best and the worst life offers are separated in our mind as differing memories by our brain’s ability to recollect them accurately. Our mind simply categorizes the various events. In a mission in one of Africa’s small countries, we were dropped onto the roof of a large compound. It was to be a simple extraction of a military official who believed genocide was the answer to the countries level of poverty.
As I entered the window of the upper floor, a young man no more than eighteen reached for an AK-47. My training and experience took over and I reacted. A single round entered his skull above the brow line. He was fifteen feet from me. In the very well lit room, I watched as his head exploded. It was my first kill. My mind recalled the memory of it nightly until I killed my second. By the time I had so many kills I was either incapable of counting or no longer felt the need, I stopped recalling it on a steady or daily basis. It still lingered with me, as it should. It now lingers, however, as a memory. Without a doubt, the first person I killed was the saddest day of my life.
The best, and arguably the proudest day of my life had been the day I graduated BUD/S training and became a Navy SEAL.
Until now.
Karter accepting the request to become my wife far exceeded any level of pride I had ever felt or could ever expect to feel again. Comprehending her allowing me to be her husband was close to impossible. For now, I chose to simply accept it and wallow in the thought of her being for me as good as I knew I’d be for her.
“I love you,” I smiled.
“Jak, you have no idea how happy I am,” she said as she looked down at the ring.
“I’ve got to pee,” she smiled.
As I watched her walk toward the bathroom in her signature Karter stroll, I felt an odd relief of my life being in order. A certain fear prior to retiring from the Navy caused me to look at my retirement day as a curse, and not a blessing. Visions of depression, guilt, and becoming another PTSD suicide statistic filled my mind. Now, watching Karter walk away, nothing could be further from the truth.
“Jak Kennedy!” an unfamiliar man’s voice exclaimed.
No one here should know me.
Shocked, I turned to my left and stood in a somewhat defensive posture.
“Damn, killer. Settle down. Just thought I’d say hi. You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked.
I studied his face. I had no idea who he may be.
“Pete Townsend?” he said softly as he pointed at his face and smiled.
I shook my head.
“Little Petey? I was a couple years younger than you in school.”
The last thing I wanted was to see someone from school. Those memories were long since passed and I wanted to keep them forgotten. In an effort to be kind, I smiled.
“I vaguely remember. I’m sorry, nice to see you,” I said as I extended my hand and shook his lightly.
“So, you and Shelley’s daughter out for dinner? She’s kind of young for you ain’t she?” he chuckled.
My head began to spin. My face felt hot. I was becoming confused.
“Shelley?” I muttered.
“Yeah, Shelley Peterson. Hell, you used to date her back in the day, didn’t you? Before you became a Marine or whatever?” he said as he slapped my shoulder.
My heart began to race. Shelley Peterson. The last name I wanted to hear, and the primary reason I would never return to my hometown. But Karter’s last name was Wilson and she was from Connecticut. He was clearly confused. I swallowed the lump in my throat and intended on ending the conversation quickly. As I reached for my wallet, removed a hundred dollar bill and dropped it onto the table, he continued.
“Hell, I hadn’t seen her since she was a kid. Maybe five years ago, when she left her mom and moved from town. Her mom’s nuttier than a fuckin’ fruitcake, so it was no surprise she left her like that,” he chuckled.
I looked up from the bill I dropped on the table and blinked my eyes.
Focus Jak.
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Petey. I’ve got to get,” I said as I slapped his shoulder and began turned toward the rear of the restaurant.
Appearing somewhat confused, he shrugged and smiled, “Alrighty. Nice seein’ ya.”
As I briskly walked to the rear of the restaurant, my head began to spin. If what he said was true I…
It can’t be true Jak, think. It’s impossible.
I shook my head and attempted to think of times and dates. My head slowly became a fog of memories, events, and faces I had long since forgotten. As Karter stepped from the bathroom and smiled, visions of my high school prom filled my head.
And I began to feel ill.
JAK. “The air conditioner is fixed, it was the contactor,” I said as I walked into the kitchen.
“Well, it doesn’t feel fixed. I’ll call the repairman,” my mother complained as she snuffed her cigarette out.
“Mom, it’s fixed. It’s fine. Close the windows and it’ll be cool in here in a few minutes,” I sighed as I walked to the bathroom.
I washed my hands and looked into the mirror. I felt all of the things I expected to feel with retirement, but reserved hope I wouldn’t. Standing and looking at my reflection, a different man looked back at me. I was tired, lonely, depressed, angry, ashamed, and unwilling to accept my past was coming back to haunt me. I felt mentally mixed up and I was physically ill. Although my mind was a mess, I needed to do my best to mask it and determine just what was going on in my life before something terrible happened.
Something even I could not resolve.
I leaned into the kitchen slightly. My mother remained sitting at the table with the windows still opened and the air conditioning blowing full force.
“Mom, where’s my box of stuff from the old house? The one I kept all my high school stuff in?”
“I put it up,” she snapped.
“Where, mom?” I sighed.
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