The Perfect Holiday

I always swore that one day I’d put him on his ass. I’d hit him so fucking hard he wouldn’t ever get up. One day I’d be big enough and strong enough and have balls enough to put my fist into his nose and the tip of my boot into his ribs, just like he did to me.

That moment came and went in a flash. I remembered getting a momentary rush of satisfaction as the son of a bitch lay there on his back clutching his nose as blood squirted through his fingers. Then the cops came and hauled me away. The judge, a fishing buddy of my old man, gave me two choices: a year in jail or four years in the military. I told him I’d take whichever option got me the fuck out of Gulf Breeze, Texas.

Two days later, a deputy sheriff and the Navy recruiter out of Galveston were putting me on the Greyhound bound for Michigan. I left Gulf Breeze and never looked back. Not until today, 4,110 days later. I had left an abused, angry, vengeful boy. I was returning a disciplined, tough as nails, motherfucking Navy SEAL.

I was coming home to bury my mother and sell her house, then I’d leave Gulf Breeze for the final time. Good riddance to bad memories.

CHAPTER 6: Annabel

I had loved Shane Mavic for years, ever since Mrs. Owens, our first-grade teacher sat us next to each other on the first day of school. I think she did it because we sort of favored each other. A lot of the teachers thought we were brother and sister. We were both stick-skinny, with coal black hair and deep brown eyes and the honey-colored skin lightened by the generational thinning of our Cherokee blood.

I was a typical little girl, all bright eyed and bouncy, but Shane was a quiet little boy who never said anything unless there was a reason to. While the other kids were bouncing off the walls, Shane would sit silently at the table and watch them with fascination twinkling in his eyes, as if he was trying to figure out what they had to be so happy about. I didn’t know for years what went on at Shane’s house behind closed doors. I didn’t know his daddy was a sadistic son of a bitch and his wife a pathetic doormat who allowed her oldest son to be used as a punching bag. Shane had a younger brother, Kenny, who his father doted on. Kenny got all the love. Shane got all the abuse. But I never saw him cry and never heard him say a bad word about his brother. Shane loved Kenny as much as a big brother could. Sometimes I think he took the abuse for them both so their father would leave Kenny alone.

I always felt bad for Shane, which made me love him even more. Even as a little girl I wanted to take him into my arms and rock him to sleep, like I did my baby dolls. I wanted to cradle him to my young bosom and tell him it was all going to be okay, even though we both knew it wouldn’t be because his daddy was off somewhere getting drunk and would be looking for him when he stumbled through the door.

I was horrified at the bruises on his body the first time Shane took off his shirt in front of me. We were fifteen and going swimming at the lake. He had deep purple bruises along his rib cage and back. I didn’t have to ask what they were from. I knew. Everybody knew.

I also knew it would come to a head someday when Clint was either too drunk to narrow in on his target or Shane had finally taken enough.

I always figured one day Shane would kill his father. And somehow that was all right with me because it would mean Shane was set free.

* * *

Shane and I started dating somewhere around the tenth grade. We never really made it official. He never gave me a ring or anything. It was just understood that we were together. We’d loved each other for years, so in my mind it was simply the logical progression of our relationship. I had it all planned out. We would date through high school, I’d go to college while Shane worked the oil rigs, then we’d get married and have kids. There was no other scenario in my mind. I never considered any other option.

Call it timing or simply convenience, we became a couple about the time puberty hit. I remembered our first kiss. We were ten and had no idea what we were doing. We didn’t even use our tongues because I said that was gross. My boobs came in when I was fourteen and I proudly let Shane touch them. I think he actually came in his jeans because when he squeezed my tit (a little too roughly) his face contorted and he quickly crossed his legs and said he had to go. Funny how things start. By the time we were sixteen it was routine for us to be buck naked and sweaty in the back of his mom’s car. Or in the lake. Or in the handicap stall in the boy’s restroom. Or in my bedroom. Or anywhere else we could steal away for a few minutes and fuck like little rabbits. We used a condom the first few times, then I convinced my mother that I needed to go on the pill for “health reasons”.

I loved having sex with Shane. He had a long cock that scared the shit out of me the first time I saw it. “You want to stick that thing in me?” I remembered asking as it sprang out hard from his jeans for the first time. “The whole thing???”

I had to laugh now, all these years later. But when you’re a sixteen-year-old girl who had never seen a cock up close before, especially one so big, it was a scary thing… for a moment… then it was… amazing…

* * *

The first time we went all the way we were parked at a secluded spot above Gulf Pointe, where the kids with cars liked to park. We were in the back seat of his mom’s old Chrysler. Naked. Sweaty. Clawing at each other like hungry animals. The car windows were steamed up. The radio was on, the country station out of Galveston. It was a Saturday night in the middle of summer and hot as hell. There was a full moon out. It shined through the rear glass, bathing our naked bodies with its glow. I could smell the sweat coming off Shane’s skin. I could feel him growing in my hand. The air was thick and moist, rolling in from the Gulf like a heavy fog that made it hard to breath. Or maybe it was what we were doing that was taking my breath away.

“I want you inside me,” I said, my hand moving slowly up and down the length of him. We’d played these naked games for months. I’d suck his cock or jack him off and he’d lick my pussy or finger me till I came. Fuck it, I said to myself, it’s time to put up or shut up.

“You sure?” Shane asked. He was lying back

in the seat. He got up onto his elbows and gave me a serious look. “I mean, I don’t wanna do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“I wanna do it,” I said, leaning down to plant a kiss on the head of his cock. “I want us to pop each other’s cherries.” I gave him a smile that told him I was sure and I was ready. “You bring that rubber?”

Shane always carried a condom in his wallet. All the boys did. It was a status symbol for a boy to have that little circle worn into the leather of his wallet, even if the prospects of using the rubber were remote at best. Shane reached into the floor to find his jeans. As my hand kept him hard, he fumbled with his wallet. He held up the rubber and smiled at me.

“Gimme,” I said, reaching for it. I took the rubber and tore open the pack with my teeth.

“How do you know what to do?” he asked, watching me, licking his lips.

“Mandy told me how to do it,” I said, referring to my slutty best friend. I gently placed the rubber on the head of his cock, then slowly rolled it down the shaft.

“Fuck… don’t make me cum,” Shane said, sucking in a quick breath as he grabbed my wrists. “I’m about to pop.”

“Well, pop inside my pussy, cowboy,” I said playfully. My pussy was soaking wet and the condom was lubricated. Shane’s cock would slip in easily enough, virgin hole or not. I’d just have to bite my lip and push through the pain because I was determined to fuck this boy till his balls turned blue.

“Okay, let me get on top,” I said, straddling his hips, my pussy hovering over his flagpole of a cock. I took his cock in my hand and guided the head to my hole. “Okay, slow now, let me do it, it’s not all gonna fit…”

Shane put his hands on my waist and gave me a wide-eyed nod. I lowered myself onto him until I felt the bulbous head press against my hole. I felt my pussy spreading to let him inside. I took a deep breath and held it. I lowered myself another inch. I watched Shane’s face as I let him slowly impale me. His eyes were closed. His mouth was hanging open. His face and chest were covered in sweat. I could hear him panting. He was doing his best to hold back…