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The Petite Girl from the Big City

The Petite Girl from the Big City

Running away from the big city, she cannot hide from the Fisherman's son..

“You alright?”

Loud and direct, it carried over the wail of the storm.

Sea spray lashed her face and the relentless wind whipped at her hair.  Wiping the brine from her eyes, vacantly, she stared at the black malevolent waves.  Mesmerised by their sickening lurches, they topped out in a froth of grey and disappeared.

“Colette, please!”

Clutching at the arms of her Guernsey, she turned to face him.  His concerned expression broke into a faint smile, a look of compassion perhaps.  Throwing the waxen windcheater over her shoulders, it felt heavy but warm.

“Come on, you’ll catch your death out here.”

It was not always like this.


“Colette!  Colette!”

The bark of her name brought her scuttling from the patio.

“Did you clean the worktops?” waspish in tone, Collette looked surprised.

She could not remember but nodded anyway.

A wipe of a finger said otherwise, “Come on!  Clean them quickly.”

It was the first week of her new job.  Holiday homes did not clean themselves, the linen and towels did not change themselves.  It might be menial work but she could not be choosy, she needed the money to complete her escape.

“When you have done that, make sure there is a front door key in the key safe, yes?”

Her tone more conciliatory, it was changeover day, one family out, and another in.  Collette busied herself with the worktops. 

“Come on, four o’clock and we have to be done.”

Putting away the cleaning materials, she looked up.  Holding out a small packet, she waved it at Colette - payday.

“Thanks Auntie Susie,”

Susie looked apologetic, “Sorry love, I didn’t mean to shout at you.  You know what I meant now when I said changeover days were…”


They giggled together and Susie put her arm around her, “How’s the cottage?”

“It’s okay,” mused Collette, “it needed a lot of cleaning and airing, good practice I suppose.  It’s good enough and that’s what matters.”

Susie nodded, “There’s some spare linen in the back of the van, use that, some creature comforts can’t hurt.”

Easing off the rubber gloves, Colette broke into a smile, “Thanks, that’s very kind.”

“It’s okay.  You can thank Joe Bailey really.”

“Who?” asked Collette.

“Joe Bailey.  The fisherman’s son?  Lobsters and Crabs?  You know, the six-foot-four lump of strong, silent type?”

“Nope,” Collette frowned, “I’ve not met him.”

Susie grinned, “Oh, you’d remember if you had.  All the young ladies in the village know who Joe Bailey is.”

She smiled, “I see.”

“Well, the cottage belonged to his grandad, he passed away in February.”

Raising her eyebrows, Collette chose to be circumspect, “Oh.”

“Joe’s a good man, well, not much more than a young lad really.”  Susie blew out her cheeks, “Only seems like yesterday I used to babysit him and his sister.”

“Right,” added Collette.

“Anyhow, you have him to thank for the cottage and the silly rent.”  She sniggered, “Mind you, he’s only doing us the favour because he can’t do the painting and decorating with it occupied.  Clever sod.”

“He sounds a character, Auntie.”

“He’s a got a heart of gold, don’t tell him I said that.  He’ll make some lucky girl happy one day too.  He’s on the lifeboat here as well,” and she sighed, “so brave.”

Intrigued, Joe Bailey sounded wonderful, it might be shallow Collette thought, but would he look wonderful too?

Checking everything, Susie looked impressed, “Not bad young lady.”

“Thanks,” and beamed with a smile.

“Okay,” Susie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “That’s better.  Now I’ve shown you how to do a changeover day, you’re on your own.”

“Got it.”

She threw the van keys at Collette, “You’re driving, drop me off at the quayside and you take the van back.  If you do use it to pop into town, just put a bit of diesel in the tank for me, okay sweetie?”

Collette beamed again, “Sure and thanks Auntie, thanks for everything.”


Her shoes did not suit the weathered cobbles as she made her way to the quayside.  The beautiful pastels of the painted cottages and the happy bustle of holidaymakers put a spring in her step.  Sticking to the shadows, she threaded her way jauntily through the herds of tourists.  A zephyr breeze caught her dress and soothed the glow of perspiration on her face.  This summer was a scorcher and brought sightseers in their droves to the picturesque coastal village.

The acid blue of flashing lights caught her attention.  Walking towards them, loud, gruff voices appealed for the crowd to make way.  In high-visibility waders and tight wetsuits, they pushed the large dolly over the cobbles, and the orange-coloured boat bounced along.  Its imposing outboard motor aloft, the lifeboat men heaved it towards the jetty. 

Joe Bailey was not difficult to notice, tall and muscular; he led the charge.  Chiselled and well defined, an intense crackle of sexual energy shot through her.  She never thought it would happen to her, yet she froze and watched in awe, struck by how handsome he looked.  An ox of a man amidst the others, he stood at the water’s edge holding the dolly firm as two men brought the engine to bear.

She felt a shove in the pit of her stomach, a fierce compulsion that implored her to act.

“Joe Bailey!” she shouted.

Collette waved hands high above her head to get his attention.  Everyone looked at her, not that she cared.

He looked up in her direction, “Yes?”

“Thanks for the cottage!”

A colleague nudged him and she could see them laughing; Joe smiled too.

“Are you Collette?” he shouted back.

A swell of pride swept through her, “Yes, yes, I am.”

“You’re welcome, mine’s a pint when I get back.”

“Okay.y.y,” she knew she sounded a little overexcited, not that she cared.

His colleague, still laughing, shouted, “You can buy me one too.”

Some of the on-lookers laughed.

“I would but you’re not good looking enough,” she shouted back.

She could see Joe nudge him back and the ripple of laughter spread.

The serious business started as the boat floated free.  The outboard motor fizzed with a puff of smoke and they zoomed out of the inlet at speed.


It was a quandary, was he serious?  Was it a date?  Or was it banter and a joke?  There was only one pub, set back from the quayside, and that felt reassuring.  Staring at her limited wardrobe, she pondered on how much effort she should make.  Not smelling of cleaning products was reasonable, just a little make up, nothing too much, and something understated to wear but not too plain.

She had the body for something racy, and that might look desperate.  Yet, her petite curves needed something tighter to show them off.  The cut of her favourite printed dress, with its hem mid-thigh had something right about it.  Inexplicably, it accentuated her bosom without screaming ‘harlot’.  Her finest asset, they bloomed from her body as two generous handfuls. 

Staring at herself in the mirror, she swayed and made the dress flare and fall.  She liked the bookish innocence of it, yet without a cardigan, it gave off the right signals.  She wondered if he might stare at her ample breasts, she hoped so.  Lifting up the hem over her hips, she checked out her ‘get lucky’ pants.  A high-cut pair of cheekies, lacy, black, and they melded her body like a second skin.  She quivered at the thought, if he sees them, on that fine piece of ass, God help me.

Walking down the hill towards the pub, she mulled over what Joe would be like, quiet and masterful, or engaging and a little cocky.  Anything but arrogant, in her opinion, handsome men were.  As soon as she saw him, her body yearned with an intensity she never experienced before.  Instinctively, she wanted him; he was that dangerous, and all he had to do was be nice to her.

Staring at the doorway, her nerves fluttered like energetic butterflies.  She sighed, a date, an actual date, and it had been a few years.  She always took the lying weasel back and came here to escape.  Trying hard not to overthink it, a drink or two would ease her anxiety and help her forget.


Every time that wizen door complained on its hinges, she looked up.  Time passed from the last of the sun to the dusky hues of ochre and orange.  She made use of the free wi-fi and passed the time with friends on social media hundreds of miles away.  Looking out through the windows, the light faded and night time beckoned.  She wondered where he was, it was half past nine.

She did not notice the door whine, engrossed in messaging a friend.

He watched her for a moment.  Susie was right when she spoke to him at the quayside.  Her niece was an attractive young woman, long wavy blonde hair, deep blue eyes and slim.  It was an unforgettable introduction; liked her boldness and her sense of humour.

“You going to buy me that pint then?”

Deep, timbrous, assertive, like a rabbit in the headlights, her eyes widened, “Joe Bailey!”

Wobbling on the stool, he caught her arm and steadied her.  He smiled at the dreamy look in her eyes, a little glassy, but very pretty.  He liked how her high cheekbones dimpled with her smile.

“Hello Collette.”

He glanced at the landlord, and Joe nodded deferentially at him.

“’right Joe?” he returned.

“Yes Bill, usual please.”

“The lady paying?”

Joe sniggered, “Not this time.”

“All good?”

“Yeah, all good.”

The landlord nodded and pulled at the pump with expert ease.


Ensconced in a whitewashed alcove, he lazed in the reclaimed church pew. 

Frothy chit-chat covered the basics, where she was from, what she was doing here, and did she like the village.  Collette did not think her words sounded slurred although she did repeat herself for added effect. 

She made him laugh, witty and funny.  Telling big long stories, they looped back to the start and ended with an amusing flourish.  He tried but could not help it; his eyes kept flitting to her cleavage.  It was not every day that an attractive woman popped down the quayside and made an exhibition of herself for him.  Dealt a good hand in the card game of life, usually, he attracted the wrong kind of attention from the opposite sex.  They might be pretty on the outside; sadly, they were not on the inside.  He was never going to be rich and he grafted for everything he had, which was not much.  He just hoped that she liked him for who he was.

Sitting opposite Joe, Collette had not taken her eyes off him since they sat down.

In the intimate low light, his deep green eyes sparkled.  Unkempt a little, his short hair tousled with a day’s growth on his face, he wore his masculinity with ease.  A square cut jaw, lightly tanned, the sleek ruggedness of his handsome face made him so easy to look at. 

Twirling a lock of hair, she watched his smile light up his eyes.  He tilted his head again to listen; he was being nice to her.  Weakened by the delicious cider, that strong tingle gnawed at her.  She needed to find a way to say something to express what she felt right now.  Every time, she summoned her feelings, she felt afraid. 

Draining her glass, she smacked her lips, “Woo, that stuff is good.  It’s your round, mine’s a Vintage,”

“You’re drinking that cider?” his expression a little incredulous.

Her body glowed, she felt so relaxed and carefree, “Yesh, it’s very good.”

“It’s strong stuff, creeps up on you too,” he added with a grin, “How many have you had?”

“Oh, not many, erm… four I think,” she paused and tried to count by mouthing the numbers, “oh, five…”

Joe laughed, “I’m not sure I could manage five.”

Self-deferential, kind, handsome, she felt possessed and with no inhibitions left, it compelled her.  Reaching forward, she squeezed his half-naked bicep.  It barely yielded to her grasp and Joe looked very amused.

“Nonsense, big strong man like you, I bet you could….”

With a groan of wood on slate, the chair slipped.  Off balance, it dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor, and Collette giggled.  A few people looked over, paused impassively, and carried on chatting.

“I bet you could… what?  Drink me under the table?” offered Joe peering down.

She cackled, “Oops, I… I think the chair’s broken.”

The cackling stopped, her legs did not want to work, “Erm, you… you might need to help me up.”

Hands, as broad as shovels, helped her to her feet.  Falling into him, a scent of ozone and notes of woody aftershave made her dizzy.  He felt so soft for such a brute.  Tenderly, he wrapped his arm around her waist and his strength made her feel feather light.

“Come on Collette, playtime’s over.”

“Aw, really?”

She could feel the bass in his voice running through her.  If she forgot everything about tonight, she wanted to remember how that felt.  It made her insides runny and pangs of excitement rolled through her body.  He was taking her home and she would let him have his wicked way with her.

Gingerly, Collette placed one foot in front of the other.  They stopped and she snuggled into him.

“Bill?  The cider. Vintage? Really?” Joe’s deep voice carried over the jukebox,

“She insisted, ‘ow many she had?”

“Five, Bill, she had five.”

“Then she’s a keeper Joe,” and he laughed.

Collette looked at Bill, smiled and held up her hand, “Bye Bill, and… you are so right, I’m... I’m a keeper.”

Joe squeezed her a little tighter and led her to the door.


Weak watery light, blurry and opaque made her blink.  Her vision sharpened onto the curtains that blocked out the bright new day.  Between the gaps, rays of dust floated aimlessly through the air.  She was in her bed, uncertain how she got there.

She swallowed at the metallic taste in her mouth and tried to ignore the pulsing headache.  Looking down, a black bucket rested beside the bed.  The fresh laundered linen felt luxurious against her body.  Rolling onto her back, she lifted the solitary sheet.  Top half naked and she scrutinised her lower half; so much for her ‘get lucky’ pants, they remained in place.

Interrupted by a snuffle, she looked into the corner, the corner with the armchair.  Lingering for a moment, he looked so peaceful asleep.  Realising he stayed to look after her, she nurtured the gooey feeling in her stomach. 

Then it hit her and her eyes widened.  She recalled the sting of sea air, her legs did not work that well, and then she felt weightless.  Her words, florid, happy, and honest, tripped off her tongue with ease.  Now, she felt an uneasy sense of embarrassment.  The acridity of bleach came next, the cold grip of smooth white porcelain, and Joe holding her hair back. 

He slept oblivious to her growing sense of horror.  He made her drink some water, and she told him a very tall story about being a lap dancer once.  She implored him to come to her bedroom and peeled off her dress.  Down to her ‘get lucky’ pants, the warm air caressed her naked breasts.  She fell, it felt so soft, and then an inky, soporific nothing.

“Oh fuck!” she hissed.

Joe stirred; he opened one eye and then two.  Bleary eyed, he looked at her with an expression of amusement and concern.

“Morning,” she offered.

Her voice quiet and solemn, she remained on tenterhooks and waited for his reaction. 

“Morning,” he croaked gruffly, “so how’s my former lap dancer then?”

His playful remark made her sense of relief palpable, “Oh, y’know, still retired.”

“You had me convinced, right up to the point when you spun around, hit the sack, and passed out.”

“I might have exaggerated a bit,” Collette mused nonchalantly.

Joe huffed with amusement, “Hungover?”

Smiling uncomfortably, she wrapped the sheet around herself and sat upright, “Oh, I’ve had worse.”

“Probably because you didn’t spew your guts up,” he added with a smile.

Collette nodded sheepishly, “Yeah, you might be right there.”

She felt a hint of encouragement in his demeanour.  Despite her thumping headache, she liked the game he played.  Looking at him, he smiled back; inside that lump of a man, there was a child in his eyes.

“Joe, you got time for a coffee and a bacon sandwich?  My way of saying thanks.”

He looked at her, and frowned a little, “Smoked bacon?”

Collette feigned a look of offence, “Of course.”

“I’d have to leave if it was unsmoked.”

She reciprocated, “Well, we couldn’t have that.”

He paused for a moment, and his smile widened into a grin, “Go on then, I’m not on the boat today.  Pa’s taking tourists out on fishing trips.”

As first dates go, it could have been worse.  Her heart leapt when he asked if he could see her again. 

Their second date was something else; he took out on the boat for a picnic dinner.  Holding hands, they watched the sun go down together.  As they watched the last of that orange ball disappear, he cupped her face so tenderly in his hands.

It felt like she had never been kissed before.


“You see, and that is why you should always be friendly to your neighbours.”

Joe laughed and Collette threw a pillow at him.

Friday came and she needed to drop off the van.  In a hurry, she rushed back to ready herself for their third date.  Walking back, the heavens opened; the typical response to a few humid days of an English summer.  Long, fat raindrops delivered by a slate grey squall soaked her to the bone in seconds. 

She got to the cottage, drenched in her t-shirt and shorts.  To her horror, she found herself locked out.  Peering into through the window, the shiny key glimmered on the kitchen table.  She gazed at her phone – flat battery.

“Bollocks,” hissed Collette as raindrops trickled through her saturated hair.

Her neighbour, Irene, took pity on her, and despite her pleas, she called Joe.

Collette answered the door wrapped in a towel, drowned as a rat.  She laughed as he held up the latchkey, soaked through with a deadpan expression, and a fat raindrop hanging off his nose.  Irene found it funny too.  Colette handed back the towel, profuse with thanks and gave her a hug.  Taking his hand, they raced across the cobbles together.

Standing at the door, she fumbled with the key.

“So, is this your idea of encouraging me then?” asked Joe.

“Huh?” and the key slipped into the lock.

“The wet t-shirt, are you trying to give me ideas?”

Collette looked at him and his cheeky expression.  In the time since their first date, he never mentioned the lap-dancing incident.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she added with a cheeky smile of her own.

The door eased open, and he bundled her inside.

Up close to him, she drank in the soft spice of his aftershave and pressed herself against him.  He kissed her, the first one after a few days apart, and it felt so tender and welcoming.  His strong arms embraced her and made her feel safe.

Kissing her again, its soft vacuum enflamed her desire.  She broke, looked into his kindly eyes, and bit her bottom lip.  She lingered to enjoy the look of hope on his face.  It was her decision to make, in the hours they spent together; he was absolute in his respect for her.

“Wanna see them again?” she purred.

His eyes answered for him and she backed away.  Giggling, she walked to other side of the room and turned with her back to him.  Peeling off her t-shirt, she threw him a look, coquettish, teasing.  Unhooking her bra, his eyebrows rose and forehead furrowed.  Clasping her breasts, she looked again at him, pouted, and blew a kiss.

Loosening her belt, she eased down the zip, and said a little prayer to her ‘thank God I wore them’ thong.  With a wiggle of her hips, her shorts fell to the floor easily. 

Stepping out of them, she turned to face him, and lifted her arms, “Ta da!”

Joe’s face, she revelled how his aloof façade crumbled before her eyes.  Gripping the edge of the kitchen table, she posed in a three-quarters view.  Looking at him, she bent a leg at the knees and thrust out her taut behind.  Running her hand down her body, she clutched at her breast.

He stared at her without blinking, and she imagined the lust he felt right now.  It washed through her like a crashing wave.  She felt a hunger for him too, a hunger that required a feast to sate.

“Do you want me Joe?”

He nodded animatedly.

“Come on then, get your kit off.”

He raced to throw off his soaked clothes with abandon.  Devouring his body, she admired his powerful muscular shoulders, chunky pectorals, and taut abdominals.  She stared at his brawny thighs, well defined and sturdy.  She did not blink, and gawped at bulge in his tight briefs.  The thump of excitement dried her mouth and her wide eyes met his.

“Mmm, Joe, aren’t you a handsome chap?”

He shrugged and she giggled.

“Still want me Joe?”

He nodded again, “Oh yes.”

“Come and get me.”

She ran for the staircase and lumbering footsteps thumped after her.  Almost out of breath with laughter, she cleared the landing, and darted into the bathroom.

She turned the lever for the shower and it stuttered.  Tepid water hissed out, it would slake the fever to come.  He loomed over her, almost a foot taller and they stared at each other.  Chests heaving, the water fizzed in the atmosphere steeped with excitement. 

Their eyes did not waver as her trembling hand savoured the contours of his body.  Cut and sculpted by hard toil, she had to caress it all, she had to memorise every perfect curve.  Her meandering fingers teased gently and she revelled at his response to her touch. 

With a soft gasp, he joined in; both hands gently ran up her sleek flanks and along the canyon of her spine.

“You are beautiful Joe.”

He mumbled, “So are you.”

He would come to know that look on her face as she smiled.  Raising an eyebrow, she defeated the elastic band of his taut briefs.  His features melted with a gasp when she took him in hand.  His eyes narrowed and her sultry expression eased into an impish smile. 

To her knees, she exhaled upon him, and her persistent fingers removed his briefs.  They slid effortlessly down his muscular legs and she looped them over each foot.

Another deep breath caressed his loins, and she admired how his full erection pulsed; its curve and girth, its dimensions in perfect proportion to his body.  Caressing the cut of his obliques, he quivered as her soft fingers moved closer.  That leaden ache pulverised her self-restraint.  One look into his eyes, no words, a tender grasp, and her open full lips accepted him.

“Jesus!” he hissed loudly.

Then he groaned; a thunderous wave of hard moans that echoed off the tiled walls. 

His hands did not force her down; they ran through her hair.  Tight, heavy balls cupped in her grasp felt hot with need.  She held it, kissed it, licked up and down his length with a lascivious look of mischief that blazed into his eyes.

Working up and down his shaft, she enjoyed how weak his groans became.  She would explain later that she was not normally like this.  In this moment, she was.  She wanted a shower together and then sex but felt compelled to do this.  All her life, she never went with the moment and this felt like the perfect riposte.  She had to reward him for what he did to her and he had to feel it too.

She had him, obedient to her whims.  His majestic penis felt ready for her, hard and hot in her mouth.  Burning inside, she touched her sex and broke the seal, hot, sodden, and needy, she felt ready for him too.

She made it into an exhibition of her skills; her full lips worked him, and a twist of her slight wrist elicited a heavy groan.  Looking up for his approval, she found it in his expression.  Eyelids heavy, his torso flared in hurried breaths for air.

Giving into his strength, he pulled her up.  Kissing her passionately, their tongues danced.  Submitting to his embrace, strong hands squeezed at her taut behind.  The heat of his fully erect length pressed against the soft flare of her stomach.  Clinging to his body, she whimpered under the assault of his long searching kisses.

His hand and its thick fingers found her smooth mound.  Sucking softly on his shoulder, he violated her and forced a sharp intake of air.

“Yes, yes…” 

Rhythmically, he pressed deeper.  Kissing her deeply, peals of electricity crackled through her body, He supported her when her legs weakened.  His hands were all over her, dragging the tender fingertips against her wanton flesh.  Baring her neck, he peppered it with a litany of kisses.  From her shoulders to the tops of her breasts, his tongue circled at an erect nipple.  Sucking on it, the tip of his tongue flicked over it, and his message was clear.  

Immolated with lust and drunk in a stupor of arousal, she craved more.

“Taste me…”

He took to his knees, delicately removed her last vestige of decency, and venerated her.  Kissing along her thighs, she felt the need to beg.  She cried with a strong rasp of air when he cleaved her sex.  He lapped at her, slowly, and provoked almost forgotten pulses of intense pleasure.

Her body seized her thoughts, stopped them in their tracks as wave after wave of pent-up lust tightened her body.  Its undulating waves took her soft whimpers and made them into stiff cries.  Frantic hands directed him to that place.  He pursed his lips and captured her clit.  Sucking it softly, she trembled with a yelp.

A deft flick of his tongue and she croaked for air, “Fuck! Yes…”

Carried away on the building waves, such was their power, she pleaded for more.  The taciturn object of her affection became her lover in that moment.  Her hips automatically steered him to the place and again.  Captured between his lips, a deft flick of his tongue fuelled the tense heat in her loins.  Overwhelmed, her need consumed her mind; saturated with lust, her body demanded it.

“I want you Joe, please…” she bit her lip and stifled a cry, “Oh God!  Please Joe, I need you in me.”

He led her to the cascade of soothing water.  Kissing her passionately, their bodies soaked in the reviving water.  He took her thigh to his waist, she giggled.  He scooped her up by the backs of her thighs and pressed her against the cool tiles.  Suspended by his strength, she took his length in her hand.

Grazing it against her sex, she stared into his eyes.  Her lips pouted, ready for the moment she imagined in her daydreams.  Waiting for her, she nodded and he pushed.  Eyes like saucers and open mouthed with surprise, he penetrated that snug envelope. 

Inch-by-inch he invaded her body, and held her there motionless.  Full the brim with his powerful erection, her eyes flickered and her pouting lips exhaled.  His first thrust forced the air from her lungs and a groan from her diaphragm.  He pressed on, and her breaths dissolved into a litany of moans. 

Held aloft, pinned against the wall, her helplessness excited her.  Scrunched tight, her sensitive nipples grazed his torso and his rhythmic thrusts stoked that pressure in lurching waves.  Overwhelmed, her mouth found his and they kissed like teenagers. 

The obdurate swell of his length grazed everything.  Her head light, body restless, she submitted to the intense pleasure he gave her.  Tingling through her, her body coveted it; this wonderful sexual act nourished the intense emotions he provoked.  There was no nervousness, no doubt, just a natural symbiosis as if they had done this for years. 

This novelty, his skill, her emotions, they drew out her first climax; it felt so easy.  Her orgasm flowed naturally from the raptures of her body and mind.  Convulsive muscles pulsed on his unyielding muscle.  Clinging to him, she bit on his shoulder and he did not stop.  Sobbing with pleasure, he stifled her moans with a lustful kiss.

Masterfully, he carried her to the bedroom, and laid her prone.  Naked, he stood before her.  His expression assertive, and his muscular body pumped by their exertion, it left her awestruck.  If the visual spectacle was not enough, the expectation made her ache.  Throwing her arms up, she opened her legs for him.  Her provocative invitation, she knew she could not contain him. 

Coupled again, the draft of his length filled her completely.  The fluid momentum of his powerful body consumed her.  They struggled together, cried in waves of pleasure together, and he never wavered.  Breathless words of encouragement powered his body and made her writhe.

Splayed hands clenched his broad back, her other squeezed his behind to control the tempo.  They found a new rhythm and her lithe body gathered pace to match of his own.  Stretching out her legs, she took everything he had.

His features soft, etched with bliss, his shallow breaths caressed her moist skin.  He craned his neck, took a nipple, and sucked on it.  Cupping his face in her hands, they exchanged a look of tenderness, and he dipped in for a kiss.  Pressing her hands to his torso, she teased his nipples and his hips clattered into her.

For these wondrous sensations, she would not be in his debt for long.  Confecting her own plan, he would be at her mercy soon enough.  She wanted to play the temptress; she needed to gauge his desire for her.  She would take him, her way, and he would know it when she took his climax.  The thought overwhelmed her, she tried to vocalise her pleasure but could only whimper and a yelp.

The tight circles of his hips made her delirious, she clutched at him randomly, her legs trembled, and she bared her teeth and sank them into his shoulder.

“I… I…”

She croaked and then tightened; staccato thrusts of his hips made her to tighten again.  His deep groans rumbled through her.  She felt the friction and her instinct took control.  He knew it too and scooped her up in his arms.  Her body had nowhere to go, and he delivered the coup de grace.  She shuddered with the force of his thrusts as he rifled her sex. 

As fantasy became reality, his power tormented her stricken body.  Truly taken by her lover; her muscles tensed to their maximum.  He gave it to her, the unfettered strength of his body. 

“Oh god, yes Joe, yes!”

Squeezing her eyes tight shut, she bucked and shook.  The deluge of release came like a summer’s storm.  Convulsing hard, he embedded his full length into her runaway body.  Sobbing, nothing else mattered; she registered nothing except the most intense climax.  No one did this to her before, nothing managed to expel such delicious relief.

It came at a cost to him, swollen to its maximum; his length slid against the walls of her sex.  The finality of the act beckoned, and she fought against the post-orgasmic warmth.  Her circular hips met each stuttering thrust.  Pressing against his chest, he rose above her.  Locked at the elbows, he looked magnificent, with beads of sweat on his brow, she wiped them away with her hand.

Finding her voice, it cracked at her first attempt.  She swallowed and an intense bolt of pleasure stole her breath. 

“Joe,” she purred softly, “make me yours.  Give it to me… please.”

His expression helpless; more perspiration dripped onto her body.

“Please Joe, fill me up.  I’m yours now.”

Stabbing into her, he laboured and slowed.  Struggling for purchase, her wet hands skidded against his soaked body.  She clutched his behind and pressed her body to his.  Rocking her hips back and forth to match his fading rhythm, she bore down on his tumescent length.

“Can you feel me?  I want it.  Cum inside me, cum baby, I’m yours, take me.”

With a last thrust, he pitched violently and roared.  Held firmly in place, she felt it all.  Belting pulses of relief, etched their joy on his handsome face.  Sliding against him, she slowed until he gave out his last.

On trembling arms, he fell to her and she embraced him. 

“Mmm, Joe, you’re amazing.”

“You too,” he mumbled breathlessly.

Peppering his body with soft kisses, her fingers ran through his damp hair in gratitude and consolation.  His breathing erratic, she comforted him.  Lying still, they savoured the intense warmth of sexual relief, until his spent cock fell from her sex.

Motionless, they laid tangled in the crumpled sheets.  She laid against him, their bodies sticky in the oppressive heat.  Joe spoke first, soft tender words about how much he liked her.  She giggled at his pillow talk, heartfelt, not mocking.  He coveted her naked body, his big hands would not cease as they caressed every inch of her.  Igniting the flickering embers, she reached out to his erection and they knew they needed more.

On all fours, she presented her taut behind to him.  Craning her neck, she enjoyed how he gazed at the expression on her face and the swell of her sex.  In a choreography of limbs and clammy bodies, she took one position after another and Joe followed her.  They laughed if it did not work; they teased and goaded each other if it did.  Crying and moaning together, they explored their quest for mutual gratification.  In the final moments, she begged for his seed.  Clinging to his body, she convulsed so strongly they climaxed together.

The air, torpid and humid, stank of sex.  Beads of sweat ran off their bodies, blotchy and over-exerted.  They rested, flat on their backs, holding hands.


He was dozing when she awoke him with her mouth.  Sucking softly at his half-flaccid penis, he stiffened easily.  This time, she pushed him onto his back and straddled him.  Her petite frame dwarfed by his muscular body, she entwined her fingers with his and rode him. 

The spring in her thighs propelled her body up and down.  Imploring him to watch, his majestic penis cleaved her swollen sex.  In this heat, such arduous work forced her to grind against him.  Drenched in sweat as she skidded on top, the fat curve of his length fed the pressure points in her sex. 

He mauled at her breasts, massaging them with a firmness that propelled her hips faster.  Her nipples, hardwired to her loins swelled the tension in her body.  Now, she was the temptress, this was what she would show him.  Diminutive in size compared to his bulk, he would soon learn of her power.

He would not last long, the engorged swell of her sex would see to that.  As the friction build, she goaded him.  Bearing down, she exorcised deep groans from his shallow breaths. 

Throwing his hands off her, she clasped his torso and locked her arms.  She plucked at his nipples, and quickly felt it his response.  She gave him an assertive stare full of purpose.  Her breasts shook as her slight body pressed his bulk into the mattress.  The brass bed complained louder than it ever did as her hips swept up and down with more force. 

Releasing her inner tigress, now she would pounce. 

“You like this Joe?  You like watching me fuck you like this?”

He groaned heavily.

“One more load of cum, Joe.  I’m going to milk it from you.”

Groaning again, his back arched and she pressed on relentlessly.  She felt it throb, that tell-tale swell at its most engorged.  His head lolled and his hips tried to thrust back.  Grinding harder, the sweep of her hips made him stop.  He tried to reach her and she took his hands.  The perfect leverage only made her task easier at the vital moment.  The satisfaction of taming him overwhelmed her; the knowledge that she could do this rushed the deep tension from her loins. 

“Yes… do it, oh God… Cum for me!”

Unstoppable, he felt massive at the moment of that first convulsion.  It stole her breath and made her yelp uncontrollably.  She shook and struggled to maintain her tempo.  Staring into her eyes, he witnessed the intensity of her climax.  The relentlessness of her hips took him over the edge with her.  Sobbing for deep breaths of turgid air, she took his seed from his trashing body until he slumped into the bed.

She fell onto his motionless body, silent and still, they laid there until he left her.  She rolled onto the bed weakly and clasped her sex.  Hot, sated, his essence leaked from her. 

Weak as a kitten, he whimpered.  Taking her place alongside him, she basked in what she had done.

“Where did that come from?” he murmured.

Pink in the face, her body flushed, she snorted, “Well, it didn’t… it didn’t seem fair you did all the work.”

“I like your idea of fair,” his voice a soft rumbling whisper.

Trying to laugh, she could not, “I’m not… I’m not usually like that you know…”

He looked unconvinced, “Really?”

Caught out, she smiled wearily, “There’s… there’s just something about you.”

He gathered her up on his arms, “Anytime Collette… you can do that anytime.  Where have you been all my life?”

He did not see her joyous smile.  Safely embraced against him, she nursed him into a restful sleep.

They dozed until early evening, showered, dressed, and ventured out to the quayside.  She still felt him inside her, and it put a wistful smile on her face.  Joe did not understand, he asked if she was alright several times, each time he did, she kissed him lovingly.

Resting against him, his arm around her, they held hands.  Enjoying a cold lager each, they looked out over the harbour.  Accompanied by seagulls, the late sun warmed their relaxed bodies and glistened on the calm sea.  They did not say much, just gazed out contentedly at the plucky boats so small against the horizon.

“Best day ever Joe.  Best.  Day.  Ever.”

He squeezed her hand and nuzzled her neck, “Mine too.”


During that summer, hot and laborious, vivid and fun, she fell in love with Joe Bailey.  As the nights grew longer, she waited for those words from his lips.  She did not wait long.

When he did, he was nervous and looked so vulnerable.  She felt so proud of him when he battled on to tell her why.  She told him why she loved him too and made him a vow never to hurt him.  She knew the pain, and she knew its injustice.  The eyes, the window to her soul, revealed the solemnity of that oath.

He told her every day, everyone that took one look at them together - they knew it too.  As the autumn chill deepened, the tourists faded away.  Collette found new work, it did not pay well, but they did not need much money.  The cottage was their home now; Joe’s parents could see how happy Collette made their only son.  To them and the villagers, she was the petite girl from the big city, kind hearted, a bit of a ditz, and became one of their own.

Now, she waited, and she waited with the courage she learnt from Joe.

At first, she hated to watch him speed off into the unknown and defy the unforgiving sea.  She had to bear it; all their loved ones did.  They taught her that matter-of-fact stoicism; that make do and make busy that filled in the hours of not knowing.  Joe and the others went out to save lives, quietly, without fuss, and she loved him even more for that.

The wind howled though the bottom of the wizen door.  The warmth from the hearth crackled and its eight customers kept an eye on Collette; sat at the bar on that stool.

In damp clothes, comforted by the warmth of Bill’s coat, she remained blank-faced.  It had been too long, from the faint gloom of four-thirty to the raven black of ten.  She knew their boat had enough fuel for four hours.  Sipping on her drink, she stared at the blurry lights on the headland.  She felt it, the sting of a tear and casually wiped it away.

What would she do if it happened; she did not want to think it, but could not help herself.  A force-eleven, a deep November depression, she heard the warnings for shipping to stay in port.  Saturday night was date night and Joe took the call.

“I’ll be back for that pint Bill.”

That last touch of his hand on her shoulder and the graze of his kiss – another tear ran down her cheek.  Defiantly, she wiped it away; she must be strong no matter how much it hurt.

Something felt misplaced, something felt wrong, something important.

I love you.

Wiping away another tear, frantically, she tried to remember, today or yesterday.  She could not hear those soft rounded syllables with that burr of tenderness in his voice.

The void in her mind matched the dark of the night.  No, it could not be so, she would remember, it would come and still nothing did.  Another tear fell and she wiped it away.  Picking up her drink, her hand shook.  Placing it down on the bar, another tear fell, she wiped it away.

I love you.

Fighting back, she dug deeper to constrain her feelings and they poured out from her weakened defences.  The memory of eating chips on the quayside, laughing as she threw one and he caught it in his mouth.  That feeling of contentment, embraced in his arms as they drifted off to sleep.  His tender feelings for her, the words he found so difficult to express but tried because he loved her.  His magnificent beauty stood under the shower washing away the hours at sea.  The carefree laughter when they helped unsteady tourists off the boat. 

Her man, her beautiful man, and another tear fell; she did not wipe it away.

I love you.

Looking out of the window again, this was not just love, a mere transitory emotion.  It would not fade as familiarity bred contempt.  She had not loved him enough yet; she doubted that she ever would.  She came here to run away, instead, she found herself and the mythical man of her dreams.

Now, she burned with injustice, she loved him, deeply, and she would never let it go.  He had to come back, what they had was bigger than she could ever be.  She could not do anything if Joe was not there to share it with.  More tears followed, she sniffed hard and clenched her fists to stem the tide.

I love you.

The wizen door cried out and slammed against the wall.  Her soul almost rocketed from her body and she turned instantly to face it. 

“Joe! Joe!”

Falling into his arms, she squeezed him tight.  He clutched her tightly too, just like the yachtswoman he grabbed from her stricken boat.  As tightly as he gripped the rail when that crashing wave pushed him over, broke his harness, and threatened to sweep him overboard.  He clung to her as he did to that throttle lever, feathering it to get their boat home with almost no fuel.

“I... I…” she paused, she would not tell him, it was her burden.  “I love you, you big lump.”

“I know Colette, I love you too.”

She eased into him, she heard it now, and she would never forget again.  Looking to him, his thumb wiped away her tears.

“Buy me a pint then?” he asked.

She smiled, a weak one at first, it widened when he pulled an ugly face.

She snorted loudly, “I’d buy you a pint but you aren’t good looking enough.”

He laughed loudly and she squeezed him tight.  It rumbled through her, she felt it, and she always would.


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