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his unusually stiff penis between the tiller and my right inner thigh then resumed massaging sunscreen into my breasts.
Oh how I wished Louises locket were on my clit ring that instant. All that jiggling would have sent me into orbit!!! Instead, three minutes of massaging my boobs and vibrating his penis got the motor hood all splattered with his semen!
However, another two minutes of my pressing my clit ring against the tiller did earn me such a formidable orgasm that the echoes of my squeals off the bluffs startled an entire flock of cormorants. To see their wings flapping and little webbed feet run madly along the surface of the water sent the pair of us into hysterics! Doug thought sure Id win the Guinness award for the most startling orgasmic squeal in history, but my reward was seeing that all his equipment was functional once more.
Two days after I finished this entry, I checked for new emails. I found a curious reply from Louise to a message I dont remember sending her, entitled, "Think about what youre missing back here!"
All it read was, "I see Dougs feeling better, and Im very jealous!"
I scanned down her short reply to the original note and found a nice photo of Doug and I canoeing past some Canada Geese on the creek. Another showed a Red Winged Blackbird clinging to some bull rushes. A third featured the trees overhanging the creek and a fourth displayed a crotch-eye view of me lying on my back in the canoe, bare-breasted and gazing up into the heavens as my husband ate me out! Two more showed those darling little ducklings, followed by close-ups of my torso, still bare-breasted and legs splayed out over the gunnels. Three escalating images highlighted his sperm oozing disgustingly through the crotch of my poor ravaged panties!! Fourteen pictures of the bluffs along the lake followed, interspersed here and there of me impaled and joyriding on the outboard motor tiller!!!
He sneaked pictures of me when I wasnt looking and sent them to my girlfriend!!! What would possess a man to do such a thing? Where is My Pictures? Here they are. Delete! Delete!! Delete!!! What would make him think anyone else would want to see pictures like that of me?
Four weeks had passed since Doug had come home from the hospital. He was still a little pale looking and complained of being cold all the time because of the blood thinners. The night before, he was detached and completely immersed in a Blue Jays baseball game. Early the following morning was gray and rainy and I was feeling quite sorry for myself. Like a fool looking for comfort, I went down into the den, popped in that Lisa Brokop "When I get to be you" CD into the stereo and cranked up the volume.
My thoughts were with Louise as I danced around to the first two songs, but then I heard those chirping crickets begin the third song. I heard that
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simple acoustic guitar riff begin and heard Lisas haunting voice moan, "Single-sided conversations. Too much time spent all alone. Even though my heart is breaking, you dont even know!"
The reverberating thump of the bass drum resonated through my larynx and my eyes welled up with tears, preparing for what I knew was coming.
"Today I was thinking about us, what Id do about you. I was lost in reflection, when I found the truth!" I shivered along to the chorus of, "Cant think of, one reason. Tried to find a way, to make this work. Through trying. And denying. Tired of pretending, I dont hurt." But when I tried to sing along with, "So Ive been thinking, maybe my hearts... better off broken!" my throat choked up and shallow breaths quivered up through my chest.
I broke down completely as she continued, "Sometimes wishing for an easy way out, but I cant ignore this pain. Made up my mind to get it over with now, cause nothings going to change!"
By the end of the second chorus, I began to wonder if maybe my heart was better off broken. A mandolin solo preceded a reprise of the chorus and by its ending, I was resigned that my heart was indeed, "Better off broken" and it was time to move on
The sentiment of the rest of that CDs songs reinforced my decision. As her last song began, Doug mystically appeared, wrapped his right arm around my back, clenched my left hand in his, pushed his pelvis tight against mine and we dirty danced to "The Land of a Thousand Dances" in perfect harmony. He nibbled my ear, squeezed my butt cheeks, goosed me a time or two and ground his knee up into my crotch throughout the whole song. By the time the song was over he had me all hyper so I made a mad dash up the stairs and zipped into the bathroom.
I spun the taps on in the shower, stripped off my nightgown and was in the tepid spray for all of one minute when a fingertip poked the shower curtain into my left buttock. The next thing I knew, hed pushed the curtain aside a little, slipped in behind me and I felt a hot bigger protuberance rudely slide along the underside of my crotch!
His right hand flashed around in front of me and grabbed up my bar of Dove from the soap tray. Doug wet it thoroughly in the spray then soaped up my right breast. About the time the suds began to drip off my nipple, he handed off the soap to his left hand then lathered my left boob up frothy as well. He reached around further, soaped all over down my abdomen then inched back his penis. He smeared the soap down over my pubic mound, flipped the gently curved side of the Dove upward then swiftly worked the bar back and forth along my labia. Immediately after that I felt