His Parting Gift
A Halloween Erotic Story, by Melissa MacFarlane
His Parting Gift: It was the last time I saw him alive. A chilly but bright October morning with no clouds and a biting wind that tore through my dress and straight into my bones. I shivered painfully as I pulled my thin shawl further over my shabby dress, smiling brightly through the chattering of my teeth. The men on the ancient trawler waved idly at the waiting women as they surveyed the choppy waves ahead, already anxious to start on the task in question. Despite his male bravado, Tom’s eyes never left my face. His face playful but softening at my obvious distress, I’d never been very good at the fishing trip goodbyes.
We stood bravely together, the wives and I as we plastered fake, happy smiles on our faces. Only our fine lines and grim eyes revealing a deep sense of foreboding. The wife of a fisherman was a lonely vocation, men away for months at a time and quite often, husbands never returned. The Sea was a dangerous and unforgiving place to be and I know many women waiting for a man who never returns home.
Once the small trawler disappeared from sight, I set to my job with the docks, trying to shake the hot, salty tears and the usual, crippling uncertainty. My hands trembled with the bitter cold and fear as we trudged slowly toward the factory, ready to prepare the days catch for the market.
I felt the prickle of a storm later that afternoon. The cool, salty air suddenly becoming warmer and the breeze harder and more forceful. The charge of electricity bringing a heaviness to the air which caught in my throat, making it difficult to catch my breath. With a powerful prickle of dread, I broke from the queue of monotonous, tedious gutting and dashed towards the wooden doors of the factory where I was thrown to the floor by a violent gale.
We stood high above the sea, safe in the shelter of the factory. Watching with fear as the angry, dark clouds gathered together, as black as night and settling low above the waves. The vicious wind dipped low into the water, lifting the waves high into the air, the soft foam becoming dangerous arrows as violent waves crashed and shattered. Huge forks of lightening illuminated the sky and tore through the clouds whilst I sank to my knees and prayed.
Crippled by fear, I barely noticed that every man and woman around me was doing exactly the same.
I prayed all night, holding my silent vigil and desperately hoping that the trawler would stay firm and upright to defy the most powerful storm our sleepy coastal village had seen in over a decade. The thunder crashed as if it was delivering wrath of God himself and powerful gales whipped through the streets, destroying our homes and buildings but still we prayed. Giant waves spilled over the docks, causing floods and taking the lives of our villagers, but I never gave up hope.
After two desperate days the rain began to subside and the wind began to lessen. We emerged from our shelters, our eyes blinking against the sun like rabbits emerging from a warren. I scoured the streets, comforting the women who sobbed and the men prayed who silently as we surveyed the damage in deep sorrow. Bodies lay crumpled and dead in the street, homes reduced to piles of timber and our people broken.
We set upon the arduous task of clearing and re-building, pulling together with talk of hope and a new start. As we buried our dead and prayed for the souls of those lost, I waited for his return. The icy fear gripping my heart and holding it firm, powerful and all consuming. The soft sand a soothing balm as I embraced its velvety softness against the soles of my feet, the wind whipping through my air and my skin prickling with desperation as I waited faithfully every night. My eyes scanning the horizon for the familiar and calming shape. The cold nights becoming bitter and lonely as one by one the women gave up hope.
It was two years later on All Hallows Eve when I saw him again, a night when our village comes together to pray for the souls of those perished. It is legend that souls lost in purgatory walk the earth seeking eternal redemption, ghostly visons that moan and scream within the darkness.
Disinterested in such frivolous prayers, I kept my nightly vigil, praying deeply for the return of my husband, marooned on an unknown island or making his way home from a country far from home. I shunned those who tried to make me see sense, the friendly conversations of passers-by, gently offering advice about ‘moving on’. I became reclusive and alone, the villagers happy to leave the ‘strange one’ to her own devices.
I heard the unnatural stilling of the water before anything else, the unnerving silence that pricked my ears, causing me to lift my head in curiosity. I broke from my vigil, my eyes opening slowly, more pique with interest than afraid. Around me I saw hundreds of women, old and young, frozen in silence with their faces turned towards the water. I felt a prickle of fear travel down my spine as I watched the silent unmoving silhouettes and with my heart full of dread, I began to climb to my feet.
As I began to raise my body my eyes caught the refection of the full moon on the inky, silent water. It was the colour of scarlet, red and vivid like a large drop of blood against a black chalkboard. I gasped in horror; convinced that I was to be engulfed by the Devil himself as the fearful screams erupted from my body.
My legs were made of lead but still I tried to run, the screams like bullets, tearing through the still, silent air. As my legs carried me towards safety, I was pulled firmly to the ground. I recognised the women from the village. Their attempts to calm and pacify defied by their firm grip on my shoulders and legs. ‘Shhh child’ spoke Old Bessie firmly, her wrinkled skin and broken teeth illuminated by the deep red light. ‘Tis nothing but the Sun passing over the moon.’ She nodded towards the water, as still as a concrete floor. ‘Tonight, you will see your husband’.
Still pinned firmly to the ground, I watched in terror as dark figures broke the surface and arose from the silky water. The dark silhouettes of fishermen, long passed, broke the red glow of the moonlight and walked effortlessly through the water towards the waiting women on the beach. Arms released me as the women began to surge forward, screaming with delight as familiar faces and shapes emerged from the water and raced into the arms of their wives, mothers and children.
He saw me before I saw him, but all around me I could sense his presence. I looked up to see him running towards my heavy, frozen limbs. His familiar features gripping me with a combination of longing, fear and revulsion. He grips me firmly, his body warm and his heartbeat achingly strong. Lifting to my feet with his powerful arms and holding me close to his chest. I feel the deep wracking sobs course through my body, sending powerful shudders deep through to my core as he holds me close and I bury my face deep into his chest.
His clothes are sodden and his hair clings like small eels wrapped around his forehead as we hold each other, unable to extricate ourselves from the powerful embrace. Despite the warmth of his body, the cold of the evening begins to overwhelm me and I begin to shiver. I take his hand and lead him to the silent, empty beach hut where I often sheltered during my prayers for his return. The ancient door creaks open, weathered with age and misuse. I grab the assortment of towels and blankets I kept hidden in the corner of the hut and we wrap them around out shivering bodes whilst we sit.
Around us we survey the beach as couples sit around warm fires, embracing in the crackling glow of the orange firelight. He notices my soft shivers and hunts for supplies, returning with wood and kindling and sets about building a small fire at the entrance of the hut. His movements strong and powerful, the muscles in his arms evident through the thick wool of his jumper.
In silence, I watch the flames dance and lick the dry sticks of wood, crackling and spitting as we soak up the precious warmth. As the heat from the luminous flames gently warmed my body, I desperately tried to make sense of my surroundings. Was I dreaming? Had my hopes turned to a desperate illusion? I pinched my skin, leaving pink spots on my soft flesh but my surroundings remained the same
‘Tell me, husband.’ I implore. ‘What is this?’ His eyes as blue as the sea, soften deeply as he gazes at me, drinking in my emerald green eyes and pale skin. ‘How has this happened? Are you… dead?’
‘I am not dead.’ He replies as he takes a seat by my side, his arm tracing the line of my skin, his eyes alive with a powerful longing. ‘I was taken by the sea during a powerful storm and that is where I now belong. I live within the water, lost at Sea until the Sun passes over the moon as it does now. As the powerful of the lunar weakens, those who belong to the water can walk the land again until the moon reclaims the light.’
In unison, we glance at the moon, still the colour of blood but with a small, chink of white light where the lunar was in the process of reclaiming its full, powerful glaze. ‘There isn’t much time my love’ he responds with an embrace. I felt an icy fear grip my soul. I knew that I couldn’t bear to lose him again and my heart ached with frustration.
It was strange be so aware of our limited time together but yet we sit and embrace in a companionable silence. My senses alive with the infusion of the sea and his natural aroma, his soft skin warming besides the crackling fire and his firm muscles holding me close. My ears welcomed the sounds of his gentle breathing, like the soft wisps of the air stroking my skin. His fingers trace the line of my arms, his touch sending delicious shivers of electricity coursing through my body and straight to my loins.
I nuzzled my head higher into his shoulders, my touch beginning to mirror his own but feeling suddenly shy. It had been over two years since I’d enjoyed the company of my husband, of any man for that matter, and nervous anticipation began to crackle at my soul. My breathing quickened and the beat of my heart began to speed, the heavy beat leaping like a lamb from my chest to betray the rush of nervous excitement that raced through my body. With my head still nuzzled deep within his chest I felt his heart beat gathering speed too and I realised that he was also anxious.
Had he been waiting for me too?
Emboldened by his nerves, I gave him a wicked grin ‘Are you afraid of me?’ I asked mischievously, moving my head away from his chest so I could meet his gaze. ‘Absolutely not!’ He grunted incredulously, puffing out his chest and throwing out his chin arrogantly. It was a gesture so familiar that I let out a peal of laugher. ‘Thomas Webber, you old Dog! You’re nervous.’ I leapt to my feet and began to dance around him, waving my arms one minute and poking him theatrically in his ribcage and underarm. He let out a yell, bobbing and weaving and still incredibly ticklish as he tried to fend off my playful taunts. I danced and teased like he’s never been gone, playing the fool and the clown whilst he laughed and yelled for mercy.
‘I see you haven’t changed then… still impertinent, and a terrible wife’ He said with a grin. ‘Here I am, after 2 years lost at sea and you dance around like a crazed circus clown when you really should…’ He gripped me firmly, pulling me close ‘Be showing me how much you’ve missed me.’
He was so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face, our lips barely touching as I stared deep into his beautiful sapphire eyes. The mere touch of his hands on mine send delicious shivers of electricity coursing through my body. Unable to wait any longer, he firmly gripped my face. Pulling me closer and exploring my mouth with his tongue. His lips taste sweet and his kiss, achingly familiar.
His hands tore at my dress, pulling the fabric firmly over my head and causing my breasts to spill from their flimsy confines. He groaned with pleasure, his soft, feathery kisses travelling from my face to my neck and further downwards towards to my aching nipples whilst he gently lay me down onto the thick, warm blanket.
He moaned with delight as he squeezed and pulled at my throbbing nipples, causing me to gasp aloud at his boldness and my wanton pleasure. My hands pulled at his trousers, freeing his hard, swollen cock. He slipped his trousers off and removed his the thick jumper, pulling my panties away in one swift gesture.
Greedily, I grabbed his throbbing, powerful cock. Desperate for him to give me a sweet release but he shook his head and whispered gently ‘I watched you wait for me every night.’ Another kiss, travelling down towards my navel ‘I watched you cry, I watched your desperation and I witnessed your hope.’ I gasped as his lips passed my naval and travelled further towards my cunt ‘Now, let’s make the most of our short time together’. He plunged his eager tongue directly only my soaking wet pussy and began to tease my clitoris with achingly slow laps of his tongue, causing me to scream out in hot desperate moans.
Sensing my frustration, he began to build up speed, a series of swirls and flicks that made me feel dizzy with desire. I bucked my hips in pleasure, thrusting in a delicious contrast to this inquisitive tongue as he sought out my secret pleasures. His fingers squeezed and stroked my nipples as he played, my soft moans becoming louder, stronger and more desperate as the powerful sensations engulfed my body.
As my passion began to build, his soft flicks became firm laps, increasing in speed and pressure as he worked in unison with my excitement. His fingers entered my body, seeking out my G Spot as I climbed higher and higher into seventh heaven. My body responded fast, the slightest touch sending a crescendo of pleasure coursing through my body. Unable to hold back any longer, I finally let go. The intense sensations engulfed my body, taking me fully into the heat and paralysing my soul with waves of intense and powerful pleasure. I cried out in delight, unable to stifle the sounds that screamed from my body as I climaxed. My husband was unyielding, he continued his assault until I lay panting and spent on the thick, scratchy blanket.
As I lay in a sleepy post-coital haze, his kisses gently made their way back up to reach my lips again. I met his mouth greedily, tasting the sweet juice of my pleasure on his lips. ‘You hadn’t forgotten’ I smiled, like a proud teacher congratulating a student. He knew about my special spot inside ‘there’ and how much I liked him to gently stroke it whilst he pleasured me. My husband was the only person who knew the power it held for me… the only person who would ever know, I suppose. His icy blue eyes gazed into mine with a wicked grin. ‘I think the whole world have enjoyed first-hand knowledge of your special spot’ he joked, his voice husky with desire.
Happy to return the favour, I placed my finger on my lips and knelt up onto my knees. Eagerly, he climbed to his feet, grinning as I took his shaft firmly in my hand and licked the tip of his erect cock. Tracing the circle of the tip with my tongue and teasing with my eyes, I felt a surge of satisfaction as I tasted the salty taste of his excitement, decorating the rim of his foreskin and illustrating his pleasure.
Never breaking gaze for a second, I carefully guided the top of his penis between my full lips so I can could take him fully. He gasped with desire, his knees weakening with delight.
I worked my head up and down the full length of his cock, pleasuring him and tasting him with every practiced movement. My firm grip worked in time with my body, moving up and down intently to coincide with my eager tongue. As if possessed, my tongue swirled around the tip, sharp fast flicks and swirls like I was devouring a delicious candy delight. He pulled my head in closer as his excitement began to build, thrusting powerfully and urgently and fucking my mouth as he came close to his climax.
Sensing how close he was from the swell of his cock, my movements began to slow and became lighter. I wanted to feel him in me, pleasuring me to the way he used to do. I pulled away, causing him to moan in urgent frustration. ‘Fuck me’ I whispered. My mind uncaring about the vulgar and shocking words that tumbled from my mouth, ‘Fuck me now’.
Needing no encouragement, he picked me up as if I was as light as a feather and flipped me roughly onto my knees. With desperate urgency he entered me from behind, the deep and powerful penetration causing me to cry out with pleasure.
His thick girth filled my cunt as he thrust slowly and intently, causing me to call out in frustration. The waves of joy illuminated my body with every thrust, leaving me begging for more. ‘Touch yourself’ he instructed. His soft voice ringing in my ears as the pleasure stroked the depths of my body, caressing my soul and filling the tips of my toes with delicious, spine tingling electricity.
My fingers reached my clitoris and stroked my soaking pussy with a firm caress. The delicious nub filling me with the pleasure I craved. As he fucked, he leaned forward, teasing and pulling my nipples, sending a sheet clutching intensity rippling through my body.
His rhythm was delightfully familiar and his firm touch sent powerful memories reverberating throughout my body. I was exhilarated, He thrust and fucked me like we’d never fucked before, losing 2 years of hurt, pain and bewilderment with every powerful stroke. Wiping away years of sadness with every delicious caress and brining me to a powerful, all consuming climax.
He found his release quickly after, a thick animalistic moan and powerful shudders of intense pleasure as he spent. I felt the gush of warm fluid, pouring into me with his climax and filling me with exhilaration. The familiar scent of post coital sweat and salt water filled my nostrils as he fell reached for the blanket and pulled me towards the floor. Holding me in his strong arms, he panted as we embraced. His firm grip holding me close as I nuzzled into his soft skin, feeling desperately sleepy.
‘No,’ I insisted, trying to pull myself to a standing position. ‘I don’t want to miss anything’. Gently, he pulled me further into his embrace. ‘I don’t have much time left’ he insisted. His face grave but softening as he spoke. ‘I just want to hold you close and enjoy this time with you.’ I nodded in assent, feeling a sense of sad acceptance, but grateful that we had the chance to say goodbye.
As we lay together, I noticed that the white light of the moon was beginning to glow against the reflection of the sea, fighting the eclipse and starting to reclaim its powerful hold over the water. I could feel him weakening, although his body was still firm and his heart still beating. There was a faint ripple in the sea that was previously silent, a gentle chastisement, ready to build to a raging tsunami as it tried to reclaim the men walking free, but I wasn’t ready to let him go.
I nuzzled deeply into his chest, holding him close to me as I fought the powerful urge to sleep. Desperate to hold him close as the sedation of the sea air began to overwhelm my body. One by one, my limbs began to feel heavy and my eyelids began to droop. Gently and purposefully, the air stole into my pores, forcing my body to shut down and leaving me unable to resist. His eyes never left my face as he watched me sleeping softly and stroked my hair.
I never saw the firmness of his body begin to weaken as he was carried back into the water, I never heard his voice become softer until it was merely the sound of the breeze.
I never saw him leave.
It was many months before I went back to the beach to see him again, there was no need for desperate prayers and nightly vigils any more. I already had the closure I needed on that chilly night on Old Hallows Eve.
The sea, feeling cheated of the dark souls who inhabited its stormy depths displayed violent and forceful anger. Angry storms and dark hurricanes attacked the coast, causing powerful floods and angry winds that attacked our defences in a witch-hunt of destruction.
I was offered refuge with relatives where I gratefully accepted their gift of food and shelter. Since Old Hallows Eve I had been left weakened and lethargic, unable to accomplish my daily tasks without bouts of debilitating nausea and sickness. It was 3 months before I realised, my happiness mingled with shock and confusion. Immediately I returned home, desperate for the comforting scent of the sea and the familiar comforts of our sleepy but broken village. Again, we began the process of rebuilding and spoke of hope for the future. If they noticed the changes to my body, it was never mentioned, causing me to wonder if I was the first.
As my feet hit the sandy beach, I felt his presence in overpowering scent of the air. The salt and water mingling with his powerful, intoxicating scent overpowered my senses causing me to cry out with happiness. The breeze caressed my face as I closed my eyes, feeling his soft fingertips brush against my skin.
As the gentle sea breeze picked up my skirt causing it to billow around my body, my silhouette became apparent. I felt the quickening of the air and the excitement of the waves as they crashed and trembled with pleasure. The soft foam danced through the air like snowflakes as the breeze swirled around my figure till it encompassed it completely – saying hello to the little water baby who danced and kicked in my womb.
His parting gift was to ensure that I would never be alone again.
– Mel MacFarlane
About the writer: Mel MacFarlane is an experienced adult industry copywriter, product reviewer and business consultant. You can find her at her own leading sexuality magazine, Voluptasse. You can also follow Mel’s work on Twitter and Facebook.
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