SEA ORPHAN

by J. KRAMER

  “I guess when you’re a bachelor you learn a lot,” he said with a smile.

  “How old are you, Lucien?”

  “I’m thirty-one. How old are you?”

  “What do you think?” She didn’t want to tell him an outright lie.

  “I guess you to be about thirteen or so. Maybe fourteen. Am I right?”

  “I’m older than that. You’re getting close. Were you ever married?” she asked, changing the subject of her age.

  “Fifteen? Surely not sixteen?”

  “Older than that. You didn’t answer my question. Was there a woman in your life?”

  “No,” he said abruptly. “Time to get back to the painting if I want to finish this one tonight.”

  The darkening of his eyes had not escaped her or the flash of pain. Lucien had been hurt in the past. “I’ll do the dishes.”

  “No, I want you to lie back on the bed, pull up your legs and open them so I can get the details of your private parts right.”

  “Okay.” She fell back onto the cot and pulled her legs up, her feet resting on the edges. She opened her legs as wide as she could. “Is this good?”

  “Yes, that’s perfect. It won’t take very long.”

  But it seemed to take forever and she didn’t care. The cot was quite comfortable and while his eyes feasted on her clit and vagina, she could let her imagination run wild. But this time it wasn’t a movie star that made love to her in her imagination, it was Lucien’s hands, which were on her body, whose lips teased her into a wild frenzy. She felt her juices run down her clit, onto the sheets and wondered if he’d noticed, too.

  “Almost done,” Lucien suddenly said, his voice hoarse from the passion she aroused within him again. Never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted this waif from the sea. “I need one close look at you now. Come here, Becky.”

  Becky jumped off the cot and stood next to him. “Oooh, it’s awesome,” she exclaimed while looking at the painting. She felt his fingers on her sleeve, pulling it down, but she didn’t care. His face was so close to her nipple, looking at it, examining every detail, she could have wound her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth to it. She glanced down at his face as he intently studied the nipple.

  “It’s not hard enough,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nipples harden when aroused. I need it to be as hard as it was this afternoon. Sometimes water or the heat of the sun can cause them to become hard, too.”

  “Well, there’s no pool here or the sun. So how do we make it hard?” she asked innocently.

  He hesitated. “Do you mind?”

  “No, do whatever you have to.”

  He took the nipple between forefinger and thumb and tweaked it. It hardened a little. “Not good enough,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “Make it good enough then,” she answered, her breathing shallow and fast.

  “I’ll have to touch you with my lips, my teeth, Becky. I don’t think…”

  “As long as you don’t bite too hard,” she said softly.

  He licked her nipple then gently took it between his lips and sucked hard. Within seconds it hardened and he watched the aureole pucker. Playfully, he nibbled the nipple until he was sure it could grow no harder, then, almost reluctantly, he let go. “Perfect.”

  Her libido had surfaced again. Becky felt the juices drip down her leg. It tickled and she had trouble standing still. Never had she come like this when she’d masturbated. And when masturbating alone, in bed, she could only come once. Today, she must have climaxed dozens of times. She’d never thought it possible for a woman to come so many times so close together, or for a man to get one stiff cock after another and spill semen each time.

  “It’s finished,” Lucien said triumphantly.

  Becky stood back from the painting and gazed at it. “It’s beautiful, Lucien. Is that how you see me? I resemble an innocent child out frolicking in the woods, unaware of anyone watching.”

  “Yes. That’s how I saw you.” But are you that innocent? he wondered. “Would you like some fruit juice before we go to bed? That reminds me. I’ll make up a bed on the floor. You can have the cot.”

  “I’d love some juice and you can share the cot with me if you want. It’s your bed after all,” she dared to offer.

  He was sorely tempted to take her up on her offer, but knew that such close proximity would lead to danger. “The floor is good for my back,” he muttered. “Would you like a clean shirt?”

  “I sleep naked.”

  “As nature intended,” he said, sending her a wink. “Okay, I’m going to turn off the oil lamps now. Goodnight, Becky.”

  “Goodnight, Lucien,” she said softly while crawling under the sheet. She heard him rummaging around for a little while, washing his paintbrushes, putting everything away for the night and then it became quiet.

  Now, alone in the dark, all the terror rushed back to claim her and her grief about her parents and brother surfaced. She hid her head under the pillow so he wouldn’t hear her cry. Sobs tore from her soul. She was alone, all alone in the world. The only person she now had was Lucien.

  CHAPTER SIX

  She awakened to bright sunlight streaming into the cabin through the open door and window. She had no idea what time it was except that it was already very hot. Her body felt sticky and she longed for a shower.

  The delicious aroma of fried eggs and something else entered her nostrils. The room was empty. Lucien was nowhere in sight and she didn’t hear any noises coming from outside. When she swung her legs out of bed and stood up to stretch, she noticed the plate on the table and a glass of orange juice. Lucien must have just left the cottage, she thought. She felt rested and her stomach growled. After retrieving the T-shirt off the floor and pulling it over her head, she sat down to devour the eggs and whatever else was on her plate. Lucien had made fried tomatoes, some kind of green stuff she didn’t recognize but it tasted good even though it was cold, and he’d baked some biscuits. Everything he cooked he did on the brick barbecue he’d built. He’d told her yesterday that he used driftwood for a fire inside the barbecue. The cottage had no electricity or running water so he fetched water from the pool on a daily basis.

  After she finished eating, she left the cottage to go see to her needs. Her bladder was near bursting point. With no toilet facilities available, she didn’t have a choice but to use the bushes at the back of the cottage.

  Finally relieved of her full bladder, she went in search of Lucien. She found him on the beach, all ready and set up for the next painting. “Morning, Lucien.”

  “Hi, Becky. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, excellent,” she lied. “I wouldn’t mind going for a swim before we start. I want to wash the night’s sleep off my body.”

  “You can swim in the ocean. That’s how I want to paint you anyway. Go ahead.”

  “I’ll stay salty.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’ll be wet most of the day,” he said with a charming grin.

  “Do you ever shave, Lucien?”

  “Only if I go to the mainland, which is seldom. I do have parents I visit occasionally.”

  “Your beard is so wild. You could at least trim it.”

  “True. But I’ve never bothered much because I’m always alone. I guess now I’m in the company of a young lady, I should take more care of my appearance.”

  Becky smiled. “Why don’t you go and do that then while I freshen up?” without waiting for an answer, she ran into the water and dove into a wave.

  He watched her for a few seconds before running back to the cottage. Before shaving, he sharpened the knife until it could slice through a sheet of paper with ease. Shaving was something he hated but he understood that by now he looked like a wild bushman in her eyes. He dug through his bag and pulled out the mirror he seldom used. Looking into it, he grimaced at his wild mane of hair and the beard that reached almost to his chest. Scissors followed and quickly he started cutting.

 
After his face was smooth and clean, he resembled a human being again. It felt strange, as it always did. Next, he brushed his mane of hair pulling faces at the many knots it had accumulated.

  Becky waited patiently. Finally she heard his soft footsteps approach and she turned around. Her heart somersaulted and butterflies flew through her stomach and crept up to her throat. He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. None of her favorite movie stars could hold a candle to him. His chin sported a deep cleft. When he smiled, white even teeth showed and a dimple appeared in his right cheek. His lips were full, but not too full. They were sensual, speaking of a sensitive nature, yet his strong, square chin indicated he could be masterful.

  “Is this better?” he asked with a broad smile.

  “Much better. You have a nice face,” she said. “And you look much younger.”

  “Thank you, young lady. Are you ready to begin?”

  “Yes. Where do you want me?”

  “On those rocks, the ones in the water.”

  “The waves break on them. I’ll get soaked all the time.”

  “That’s exactly what I want. Will you take the shirt off completely this time?”

  “Okay.” She started to pull the shirt off, but he stopped her.

  “No, take it off when you get there and place it on the rock next to you.”

  Becky climbed over the rocks to the biggest one and sat on it facing him. She pulled the shirt over her head and let it fall to the rock below.

  “Excellent. I’m looking for a dreamy expression in your eyes. Think of what you desire the most in life and let it consume you,” he told her. “Then, gaze out at the sea.”

  “Like this?”

  “No, turn more toward me and then gaze out to sea. Yes, that’s right. Now pull your right leg up and rest your chin on your knee. Leave the left leg where it is.”

  She did what he told her, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “That looks awkward. Place both your hands on your knee and rest your chin on your hands.” He studied her pose for a while. “Move your left leg outward but not so that it looks awkward. I want you to feel completely comfortable and I don’t want you to look as if you’re posing. Natural is what I’m after."

  A wave broke on the rocks and splashed her. She sat immobile though her reaction was to scream and jump up, but she restrained herself.

  “That’s great. Turn a little more towards me,” he yelled over the noise of the surf. “Open your mouth a little and lick your lips.”

  He allowed her more breaks this time because of the sun beating down on her naked body. His skin was used to the sun, but hers was quite pale. After an hour, he let her rest and ran to the cottage. Minutes later he returned carrying a blue bottle.

  “This is sunscreen. I want you to rub your body all over with this. Can’t have you getting sunstroke,” he said, “and you’re starting to turn pink.”

  “Will you do it for me?” she asked.

  He looked into her large, innocent blue eyes and nodded. “Okay. I guess so. Come here.”

  He poured some of the liquid into the palms of his hands and started rubbing it into her back and buttocks. Next, he did her legs.

  “You need to do the front, too,” Becky said, her heart racing at the feel of his large hands on her body.

  “Your face and arms first,” he said, his voice an octave lower than normal. His penis was already starting to react to the contact with her skin. That morning he’d masturbated in the hope it would calm down his passion, but it hadn’t helped at all.

  He poured the sunscreen directly onto her chest and belly and watched it trickle down for a moment before starting to massage it into her skin. He felt her nipples harden under his hands and he rubbed extra long in that area. Her budding breasts felt like small, hard mounds ready to surface and bloom. Slowly, his hands traveled down to her flat belly, then to her cleft. It, too, needed sunscreen, as it was the most vulnerable part of her body and getting sunburned there could hurt terribly. He poured more lotion into the palm of his hand and rubbed it between her legs. “Spread your legs a little,” he said while massaging it in. Her clit opened for him and he massaged the sunscreen between all the folds. Feeling her vagina, wet, dripping into his hand, caused his cock to stand upright suddenly and aching to enter her. Abruptly he withdrew his hand. “Okay, you’re all ready now. Go take your position again.”

  “Don’t you need sunscreen? I’ll apply it for you,” she said in her most innocent voice.

  Should he? Would it be so wrong? It wasn’t like actually having sex with her. “Okay, you can do me then.”

  She relished the feel of his skin under her fingers. Starting with his face, she slowly worked her way down his body. Like he had done with her, she left his buttocks and cock till last. After pouring a liberal amount of lotion into the palms of her hands she cupped his sac between both her hands and massaged his balls gently. Then she held that which had fascinated her yesterday and again today. She held his cock in her hands while rubbing in the lotion. When he suddenly gasped and his semen spurted and landed on her belly, she jumped back. “What is that? Do men pee white?” she asked innocently, while rubbing the white sticky semen off her belly.

  His breathing calmed somewhat and he chuckled at her question though guilt settled deep within. “Yes, I guess so. At times. Thank you, Becky. Go and take your position now.”

  A strange odor drifted up into her nostrils as she took her position. The scent of his semen was still on her skin and hand. It was a pleasant, musky odor. It somehow heightened her erotic senses. Her vagina throbbed, her clitoris was at bursting point as she posed and watched his eyes devour her. Each time she felt release, hot liquid spilled down her clit. She was sure he could see it.

  “It’s close to noon. The sun’s getting too hot now. Time for us to take a break. Let’s go for a swim in the pond and we can have our afternoon nap there.”

  This time she didn’t bother with the T-shirt. Playfully she skipped alongside him, acting like the youngster he thought she was. When she put her small hand in his he didn’t pull away but gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Five months had passed without a boat in sight. Lucien had daily taken her for walks and once a week around the whole island. Home seemed so far away now. But, she didn’t really have a home anymore. It was gone. Her family was gone. Though she still grieved in the silence of the night, during the day she felt happy. She had fallen in love with Lucien and wondered if he returned her feelings at all. But how could he? He was still convinced she was a child who was barely a teenager though she had hinted many times that she was older.

  Unbeknown to Becky, Lucien had fallen in love with her though he fought it daily. He watched the open sea hoping no boats would venture to his side of the island to steal his young charge. And he’d never built a proper fire. Usually, most tourist boats passed on the other side of the island. Becky had become part of his life and he could hardly imagine living without her. She was so natural, so innocently brash and a fun companion. Slowly, over the last months, with the natural food he cooked, the fresh fruit that grew on the island and being outside all the time, she had developed. The paintings of the girl he had completed the first two weeks, were exactly those. Of the kid he saw then. Now, he wanted to paint her again, as the young woman she had become. He often wondered about her age. Several times she had hinted that she was older than sixteen, but she never gave him a straight answer. She had become quite the sexy siren.

  Her face had filled out, her small firm breasts jutted out from her chest and her hips had widened a little. She was perfection. Becky was his sea orphan, his nymph come to life from another world. No one else could lay claim on her because she’d told him she had no one.

  But soon the supply boat would arrive. He hoped fervently that it would be late again and come in seven months instead of six. Those first two weeks he’d painted like a madman, a man possessed with fear of her leaving the island. Then he ran out of pose
s and settings and stopped. She hardly wore the T-shirt anymore. Only that one time, when she suddenly had her time of the month, had she put it on. He’d been tempted to ask her to paint her in that condition, but thought better of it. She’d been so ashamed of the blood suddenly trickling down her legs. It had mirrored in her eyes, her face—the expression of a girl experiencing her first signs of womanhood. He wondered if she’d had a period before. That was almost four months ago, just after he’d completed the last painting. He was sure she’d had them since, because each month there was a short period when she was quiet, withdrawn, and didn’t want to go swimming. Slowly, he’d watched her gradual development and budding womanhood and the urge to be with her, to crush her to his chest and speak of his love, was almost too much to bear.

  He watched her now as she ran toward him from the cottage, her breasts bouncing enticingly as she jumped from one rock to another. “Lucien, I think I hear a boat,” she called out knowing full well that by the time he got to the other side of the island, the boat would be gone and if by chance it passed this side of the island, she had no intention of hailing it. Several times she’d helped him build a fire, then secretly, after he’d taken off to do something else, she’d doused it. She had no wish to be rescued, to return to a piece of empty land, a charred home and the graves of her family. Their friends probably thought she was dead too, that she’d succumbed in the fire. Then again, if they hadn’t found a body… They could still be looking for her. This was home now and Lucien was her family, soon to be lover if she had anything to do with it.

  The lie had grown too big. She found it difficult to tell him about her real age and her feelings but the time had come now that she must. She loved him and was sure he loved her too. Often, she’d catch him looking at her, his eyes soft and tender. Other times they were dark with desire and his penis would stiffen. But he’d quickly make up some excuse to go and build something or tend his garden. After those first weeks, she noticed he avoided contact with her and came up with excuses not to swim whenever she went to the pond.