Sex in the Sky

I have never in my life ever had any kind of sexual feelings for other men. That is until this one time when a situation presented itself to me and I, without much hesitation, jumped right in. Neither of us was prepared for it. But it turned out to be one of the most intense sexual experiences I ever felt.

I’m an average white hetero male about 30 years old. I have a good job in the city and a nice place in the suburbs. I did not have a girlfriend at the time, but it was not because I couldn’t have one or didn’t want one. I was just between girls at the time. Well this day started off like any other I went to work that day and put in my usual time with the rest of the slaves. At the end of the day I decided not to head straight for the bus but decided, instead to head down to this new nudie bar near the bus terminal. The place featured big boob stars from the world of porn each week and this week they were having one of my favorites. After a quick bite to eat at the local greasy spoon I walked over to the club paid the cover charge and headed inside. I had been to quite a few clubs in my time, but this place was something else. Every chick in the house was either a C or a D cup. My cock stood at immediate attention. Grabbing a drink I headed up stairs to the main stage and for the next hour watched Molly Mamms strut her stuff. It was towards the end of the first half-hour that I noticed this black guy on the other side, he seemed familiar to me, but could not place him. It dawned on me why he was so familiar; he rode the same bus I did every day. He always sat in back and never got off before I did. On the bus he never seemed to bother anybody. He was lean and lanky, like a basketball player, dressed usually in sports jerseys and baggy pants. He must have noticed my staring and realized who I was as well, because he smiled and pointed to the big-titted star on stage. I raised my glass and saluted, but that was the extent of our encounter the rest of the time I was at the bar.

After several more drinks I decided enough was enough. If I didn’t hurry I would miss my last bus. I made it to the station and got on board. The bus was not crowded at that hour and the dozen or so passengers were in the front of the bus. I normally sat in the middle of the bus, but this night, without realizing it I sat in the back. Sitting right on the aisle so that I could see straight to the front of the bus, I slouched back into the seat and dreamed of big-titted women, slowly rubbing the hardon I still sported. The bus was getting ready to pull out when there was a knock at the window and the driver opened the door. It was none other than the black guy from the bar; he paid the driver and walked towards me. I couldn’t help noticing the impressive bulge he had in his pants and the fact that he did not seem to be any underwear the way it flopped around his pants. Feeling a little uncomfortable I slid to the right as he reached the back of the bus.

“Thanks man,” he said in a low voice as he slid in to the left and slouched against the window.

“No problem,” I responded quietly.

The bus pulled out of the terminal and onto the highway. The trip home was generally under an hour. For the first few minutes nothing happened, but then I heard the black guy shifting restlessly in his seat, grunting and groaning as if he were in some discomfort. When I glanced over I noticed that he was fondling his crotch a great deal, I could not see a lot but I could tell he had one hell of a hardon, just like I did. He seemed to notice me looking but did not take offense to it. He smiled and chuckled quietly.

“Man, that chick had the biggest titties I ever seen on a white girl!” He whispered, rubbing his hand up and down his prodigious bulge. ” I ain’t never been this hardup!”

“I-I know what you mean,” I heard myself say. “I am going to be having wet dreams about her for days.”

” I know I’m gonna be spankin’ the monster tonight. Damn, them titties were so big they could swallow up my joint-and I’m a pretty big fella!” He laughed as he grabbed his erection through the material of his pants and lifted it up; it was quite an impressive object he was holding.

“Holy shit!” I muttered. Unconsciously I began to rub my own painful erection, which at full hardness was near eight inches. I looked down the aisle towards the driver, but the lights were out and he was too busy driving. The closest passenger was at least seven rows away from the back of the bus. I could not help myself as I watched the black guy squeeze and stroke his tremendous erection; I was unprepared for the sensations I was experiencing as I watched him. I suddenly wanted to see what his cock looked like; it was so damned big and long that I had to see it. My own cock twitched painfully in my pants as I watched the other man grope himself, yet he didn’t seem to mind me watching. He grew more bold with his hands as he made the front of his pants tent out at least fifteen inches, he wrapped his hands around the base of it and squeezed, which caused the material to pull tightly around to reveal a circumference of at least three inches. I could not believe my eyes as he boldly stroked his massive boner in front of me and I could not pull my eyes away from him.

“Ahhh, fuck it!” He finally muttered. Without any hesitation he looked at me as he reached down to the waistband and yanked his pants down past his crotch. His enormous cock sprang out suddenly, swelling out to an outstanding fifteen inches and capped by a huge helmet-shaped cap the size of a child’s fist. The entire shaft was dark brown and thickly veined while covered with dark curly hair all the way down to the tremendous ballsac which seemed big enough to hold a baseball. The head of his cock was a dark purplish color and was already glistening with precum. With a sigh of relief he wrapped his left hand around the base of his unbelievable cock and proceeded to pleasure himself, stroking it slowly up and down without any thought to my sitting across from him. With his other hand he grabbed his pants and pulled them further down until they crumpled up around his ankles, then he sat back in his seat and groaned softly as he continued to spank his meat.

I sat there dumbfounded by this guy’s arrogance. I knew I should have got up and sat somewhere else or even walked up and told the driver, but I didn’t do either of those things. I just sat there across from him watching as he pleasured himself, I stared openly at the massive cock as his fist moved up an down, knowing I should be repulsed by it but unable to tear my eyes away from it. I realized that I wanted to touch it, as weird as that sounded I needed to know that what I was seeing was real. Maybe it had to do with the fact that all guys wanted to be carrying the kind of package this guy had, that he could impress the ladies and other guys. I shifted nervously in the seat next to him, my own hands grabbing hard at the boner in my pants. I wanted to be as bold as he was and yank open my pants, but I just couldn’t. Maybe it was my Christian sensibilities; maybe it was just not the decent thing to do. But I was impressed with this guys need to relieve himself right in front of me and by the looks of things it wouldn’t be long before he shot off. Suddenly he seemed to notice my interest.

“This fucking thing is curse. It gets hard at the worst times and it ain’t the easiest thing to hide, is it?” He whispered hoarsely as he continued to jerk off, his eyes looking over at me in the darkness. He swiveled in his seat until his crotch was pointed at me, the long barrel of his shaft pointing at me, the nossle now thick with pre-cum. He smiled as he saw my discomfort. “That big-titted bitch has made me so horny I’ll fuckin’ that I don’t give a damned who sees me. Did you ever see a bigger cock, man?”

I didn’t respond to him. I didn’t know what to say. My emotions were in turmoil as I continued to sit there with this dumb-deer-in-the-headlights stare. My eyes glued to the lewd sight of the monstrously large cock pulsing and jerking just feet away from me. I suddenly found ripping open the front of my own pants as I realized I was about to explode in my pants. I quickly fished into my trousers and yanked my eight-inch member out of my pants. Within seconds I flushed with excitement as I hosed the back of the seat in front of me with my hot cum. Suddenly the black guy next was laughing quietly as he watched me spurt all over the chair for all of three seconds. I flushed with embarrassment as my cock quickly lost much of its vigor. But what happened next quickly brought it back to full hardness.

“How would you like to feel this bad boy shoot off, man?” The black guy whispered from the corner.

I stiffened in my seat as I realized what he was proposing. “I-I’m not into that kind of thing, man.”

“Well, I ain’t no fag, either, brother,” he said. “But that didn’t stop you from whipping it out and shooting your wad all over the backseat. And you haven’t stopped lookin’ at my Johnson since I whipped it out. Stands to reason that only one thing got you that horny to shoot off so quickly.”

“I’m not gay either, dude. I was just so excited from that girl at the bar, then seeing you whip that thing out was just too much. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I’m sorry.” I said, but I was still staring at his huge cock while I vigorously pumped my own.

“Don’t be sorry, dude, its just nature. I like pretty titties just like the next guy, but we ain’t got any right now and I need relief. I would much prefer a pair of big titties wrapped around my dick but I wouldn’t mind letting you have a feel, ain’t you the least bit curious? It ain’t every day you see a cock this big and right now I ain’t too particular about whose touchin it. So come one over and give it a feel. Look if you touch mine then I’ll touch yours.”

Without realizing it I found myself sliding over to his side of the bus, I moved up beside him until our legs touched. My eyes bulged out as I stared down at the even more monstrous looking organ, which was less then a foot away from me. As much as I wanted to I could not find the courage to go the last mile and touch another man’s cock. When after a few moments of indecision my black friend made the decision for me by grabbing my left hand with his right and wrapping it around his immense organ. I immediately gasped in surprise but did not pull away as the hot, silky flesh pressed against the palm of my hand, the man groaned as he felt my fingers close around his thick shaft, barely reaching a third of the way around its impressive girth. He released my hand when he realized I was not going to pull away and sat back in his chair with a deep sigh of pleasure, watching me expectantly to see what I would do. I looked down the aisle to see if we’d been discovered, but no one else seemed to notice. I released my own cock and wrapped both hands around the baseball bat of flesh, thrilled to feel it throb and pulse with power between my fingers. Even with both hands around it the dark column of flesh still rose about 10 inches into the air, slowly I started to pump the thick rod up and down, feeling the silky outer skin slide along the turgid shaft of flesh. Holding another man’s cock in my hand was the most exciting thing I had ever experienced in my life, my own cock twitched and jerked between my thighs as I began to pump it more vigorously.

“Oh, yeah, man, that’s it. Pump that bastard!” The black guy grunted as he squirmed in his seat, his hips started to jerk up and down, as he started to fuck my hands, “Oh goddamn that feels good. Don’t that cock feel good in your hands, man?”

“Yesss, it feels really great,” I whispered as I stared down at his cock, hypnotized by the single sightless eye of his pisshole staring up at me as it continued to drool with bubbly precum. My nostrils flared as the strong musky odor of his sex wafted up to me, it was a heady scent that made me lightheaded. I gripped his baseball bat even harder as my hand flew up and down its prodigious length, my fingers digging into its sides as I slowly lowered my head towards the huge glistening head. Then without even knowing or caring I dipped my mouth close to the bulbous knob and licked the blob of precum from the tip of his cock. The black man groaned deep in his throat as my tonguetip flicked across the tip, swiping the salty morsel onto my tongue and then into my mouth, my tastebuds exploded as the pungent fluid coated my tongue then rolled down my throat.

“Oh, Christ man, your really getting’ into it! Don’t stop now, man. Lick my huge black cock, come on, man, lick it more!” The black man grunted as he reached down to grip the back of my head, urging me to bolder action, pushing but not forcing my head closer to the head of his cock. I rewarded him with another lap of my tongue across the sensitive tip of his cock, which caused him to writhe in his seat. As I became more emboldened I rolled my tongue over the enormous head of his cock, more and more of his salty precum spewed out of his pisshole onto my tongue and down my throat. My lips were now so close to his cock that every time I pulled up on his shaft the head bumped my mouth; it was only inevitable what happened next. “Open your mouth, man, take my big dick in your mouth and suck me off!”

Without hesitation I opened my mouth and on the next upward lunge the bulbous head pushed between my lips, my black friend had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stop from crying out as my lips closed around the tip of his cocked. I slurped my mouth hungrily around the succulent piece of meat, savoring the strong manly odor of sweat, precum and piss, as my tongue swirled around and around the girth of the head until it was coated with my saliva. My fists were now vigorously working the lower half of his thickly veined shaft; milky it for all it was worth while my mouth held his cockhead firmly in place and my tongue tortured him unmercifully. I didn’t even mind when he pushed my head lower, wanting me to take more of his hot meat into my mouth, so I did. I started to pump my head up and down with the rhythm of my fists, working more and more of him inside, my saliva making the going easier as it lubed the sides of the massive tube of flesh. I had to force my jaw wide open as the enormous head slid completely into my mouth, my lips slid under the thick collar of flesh at the base of the head sealing firmly around it. I gasped as I felt my black friends hand close around my cock shaft, his strong fingers gripping it tightly as he began to jerk me off.

“Oohhh, yeah, man, suck that cock! Suck my big black dick! Ohh, yeahh, suck it real good!” The black man groaned as he writhed in his seat, his ass jerking up and down as he tried to force more of himself into my mouth, his hands pushing harder against my head as I slowly allowed more and more of the fat dark meat into my mouth. “Ohhh, yeah, man, more take more. Come on, man, suck more of my big black dick! You like my big black dick, don’t you? Yeah, you couldn’t take your eyes off it! Now you’re sucking it like a pro!”

I said nothing, as my mouth was full of his thick, hard meat. My lips were stretched thin around the girth of his huge cock as I pumped my mouth further down his cock with each stroke until I had nearly half of his fifteen inches in my mouth. I tried to push it further, to take more of him into my mouth but the enormous head clogged the back of my throat to the point of gagging. Easing back I waited until the gagging reflex stopped then I began a steady pumping rhythm with my mouth and my hands that we both seemed to enjoy, my black friend continued to grip my head rocking it back and forth to the rhythm of his thrusting hips all the while fisting my own cock with his right hand. I couldn’t believe this was happening I said to myself over and over again, this was not rational. I am not gay. I do not pickup total strangers and give them a blowjob. What in Gods name was I doing? But then the sheer sensory experience of the situation reasserted itself and I drowned in the heady aromas and tastes, my mouth salivated as his hot meat glided across my tongue and into my gullet. “Mmmmmmmmmm”

“Ohhh, yeah, man, suck it! Suck it! Ohhhh, yeah, man, suck my black meat! Suck it! SUCK IT! SUCK IT!” He hissed hoarsely in the darkness. His hips jerked wildly up and down on the seat, causing the vinyl to squeak, but not enough to disturb the other passengers, he releases my cock and placed both hands on top of my head, driving my head deeper into his crotch each time he lunged upwards. His huge balls were thumping against my chest as I leaned over him, packing my mouth with as much of his hot, dark meat as I could stand. I knew he was going to cum soon and I couldn’t decide what I was going to do at the time, pull out or swallow. “Ohhhh, suck it! Suck it, man! Suck my big black dick harder! Suck my black sperm out of it you black cocksucker!”

The dirty talk was actually turning me on. I pumped my fists harder around the lower half of his column of throbbing flesh until they were a blur, forcing more of it up and into my widely stretched mouth, the corners of which were now flecked with sperm and sputum. Soon the moist sounds of flesh on flesh filled the back of the bus, occasionally punctuated by the impassioned grunts of my black friend. I could feel my throat working quickly as it swallowed more of his free flowing preseminal fluids. It was so voluminous that it coated the insides my throat, I can only wonder what kind of deluge would occur when he came. Then almost on Que. my black friend’s movements became more heated and animated, his hips humping up and down in an almost rolling motion, as he gripped my head feverishly. His breath hissed softly from between his clenched teeth as he jerked and writhed in his seat. “Aaahhhhh, here it comes, man! Here it comes! Open wide! Open wide and get your first taste of real man cum! Aaahhhhhhhh!”

Before I could prepare myself for the coming deluge-it came! My mouth was suddenly filled to the brim with the velvety thickness of his hot cream. I gasped at the abrupt explosion of juices into my mouth, some of it spurted out the corners of my mouth as my black friend twisted and turned above me. With a hard gulp the thick manseed spilled down my throat and into my stomach, its pungent tanginess overwhelmed my tastebuds and before I could savor his hot sauce another wave of cum spurted from his pisshole and into my mouth. Again it took all of my efforts not to gag or vomit out his hot sperm, my throat working up and down as the thick, goopy sauce poured into my stomach, I actually feel it grow hot with the infusion of hot liquids. It was like having a firehose in my mouth that’s how much sperm he was dumping into my mouth. For long minutes the black man bucked and jerked in his seat as he fucked my mouth, spewing his hot load into my mouth. Then finally it began to subside, the pulses of sperm shooting out of his cock lessened and then stopped all together. Swallowing several more times I finally felt the last globs of hot black sperm roll over my tongue and down my throat. I pulled the quickly wilting cock out of my mouth and sat back in my seat. Nobody seemed to have noticed anything.

“Thanks, man. That was alright!” He said as he hitched his pants back up and stuffed his flaccid organ back into his pants. With a sigh of contentment he settled back in his chair, a wide grin splitting his face. ” I never thought I would say this, but getting a blowjob from a guy ain’t so bad.”

“Uh huh.” I muttered as I used a handkerchief to wipe my mouth clean. I moved back towards the middle of the aisle and sat watching the road for the rest of my trip. Nothing more was said between the two of us, in fact, at one point I thought I heard him snoring. My mouth still tingled with the strong taste of his juices as the bus pulled up to my stop. As I got up from the seat I felt a tug at my pants. When I turned around my black friend was awake and holding out a piece of paper to me. I took it from him. It had a phone number on it.

God strike me for my sinning heart. But how could it be but right? Hair like yours beneath my hands, his lips touched gentle to mine, his scent and body driving upon my senses. Naked. Can I but shudder at the thought? Yet I shudder and do not fear. Naked. Close. How your body lay with mine, that night we first were joined. Marie. No other touch but yours. No other in all my life. But Tom. I damned myself in that touch.

I lay with him through the night. Lips met. Warm against him. I did not – I – spared him the worst dishonor. But Marie. Help me. His face – his eyes. I touched him, and he cried out, and his voice was yours. He came to me, friend of my boyhood, dear companion of all my years – good brother from you, my wife. I loved him, and in his body – so strong, so sweet, so much your own and so unlike – there was love that answered and joined with mine. He came to me as trusting as a child, all the power of him come gentle to comfort and be solaced. I held him, Marie, in my love of him – and my love of you. My love for you both.

I am damned. For I loved him there, close upon my body. God, forgive me. I will destroy this with the first light. But I took him in my hands and touched his taut, smooth body, touched as I longed for him to touch me. He clung to me sweetly, God, as sweetly as my own dear Marie. He called me by my name, his voice so rough and broken that he stung me to tears, and I kissed him, my beloved, and brought him to me. I … was as strange to him as his hands were to me. But forgive me – it was – ah, Marie. Our wedding night. How kind we were to each other. How gentle. How slow and soft to touch our bodies, to learn our ways and find the path to pleasure. I … thus with Tom. Tender. Slow. And – my soul. Ah, my soul. Marie, I was lost, as he beat and pulsed within my hands and moaned against my body. I held him long, my sweet Marie, and I would not put him from me for any thing. I held him close, and when I slept – my God, Marie, did I dream you smiled?

“The Hesperus, at sea

February 11, 1865″

He has found my letters. God help me, I can hardly write.

He has found them, Marie, and read them, though I begged him not to. Though I would have taken them from him, he would not give them up, and – oh, Tom. My heart broke to see him. He put his head to the desk and wept. His poor broken body. His hair trailing over my letters. His hands that clenched and trembled in fists. I longed to help him, Marie, I did. I wanted to go to him. He was so hurt. So lonely. But then he said –

He was angry, Marie. He would not have said it otherwise. He loves you with all his heart; he is your good, kind brother. He would not have said that thing for all the world, but he was hurt, and torn to the heart, and did not know where to lay his grief.

You know what was. Do not make me say it.

I love you.

Your Richard

“The Hesperus, at sea

February 12, 1865″

I love you, Marie. I will not give you up. I beg you, do not forsake me. Without you there is only –

Tom. He came to me again. That night, that evening, when the sun was sinking in the sky. God. My mind, Marie. I no longer know day from day, nor night from morning, nor my dreams, Marie, from waking, for you are always there before me, with your golden hair and your eyes like the sea. Your lips touch mine in flesh and spirit, and I am lost between you.

He is so beautiful. That morning, before he found my letters – his touch so gentle – a moment, Marie, I dreamed myself with you, home in our narrow bed, close by the wall of the cottage with the larks singing in the wheat. That moment I saw into heaven, and I drew you to me, the scent of your skin filling my senses, the brush of your hair on my lips.

I knew him, Marie. I knew what I did. And I did it, though I knew with whom. I saw your gentle eyes all the while. But how could I put him from me? His eyes, that soft blue-gray, so trusting … so afraid. He feared the pain that could come from me, who never had any thought of him but love, joy and affection. I could not do it, Marie. I could not put him from me. And I did not want to.

The gray dawn light. Will it ever be day again? I saw him in it, his golden hair touched to lead, his eyes sunk in shadow. He looked so young, with his body curled against mine and his eyes pleading for comfort. I drew him close and kissed his hair, and touched my lips to his. He put his face to my chest, and – ah, Marie. He wept. He wept for you, with a grief as open as a child’s. I held him to me, close in our pain, and he murmured low – “We share this, Richard. Let us be true.”

I held him close. He needed it, I swear. I could not bear to see again – God, not now – that terrible light that burned in his eye the day we sailed from Portsmouth. That day he went into the Spanish sea for a shilling’s worth of rope. I held him until our hearts lay at peace and – Marie. Our bodies stirred.

He would have – given himself. Touched his lips upon me, there where I ached for him. God, can I say this thing? I could not do it, my poor Tom; I could not betray him so. God, forgive me. I tried to do right. What little right was left me. I only wanted that he should be comforted at last. That some day I should see again that bright, soaring lark’s joy that he had – my love, you know it well, but how long has it been since I saw it? What love I might bring him, surely I owed him – our sweet Tom, whom I took from you though all my heart protested. And so – I did that thing, I think he would have done for me. I took him, Marie. Unto myself.

Sweet to me. Sweet was the touch of his body. I wish I could lie to you, Marie, but your eyes have always found me out. Even as a child, you knew the truth, whether I wished you to or not. You made me an honest man, for a lie could never pass that gentle gaze. And oh – the touch of him was sweet to me. His hands upon my skin, his lips touching my neck, my chest – God. My belly. Thighs. And there I must, I must stop him, and how else, Marie? How else?

Do you remember that night, Marie, when you first let me kiss where I longed to touch you? Do you recall how long we trembled, my lips upon your thighs, hardly daring to kiss again, softer, higher, where I hungered so to feel you? How your body arched up to mine when my lips came to you at last? How you cried and trembled, so that I half-feared, and lifted my mouth? How you begged me, sudden and wild, stirring my blood beyond all words when you pleaded with me to give my touch again?

It was that night, Marie. From the moment my lips touched upon his thighs. He had that catch of breath, that sudden cry as if for mercy – it works my mind to madness now, the arch of his body, the trembling grip of his hands. It was – oh, spare me the words that can never say, beneath the shame of it, what beauty it was – to see you thus in him.

Yet there was – difference. He was you, Marie, and he was Tom, and my mind ran so upon you both, my heart so torn between you. But the hunger rose up like a trembling fire, and – I took him in my hands.

Warm. Strong. Hard and smooth, like the handle of an axe wrought fresh from the ashwood. Heavy, good to the touch – my God, how can I say this thing? How is it the page does not burn with the ink? But it was good to me, and – Marie. Forgive me. I whispered his name on the skin of his thighs, and raised my lips to kiss his fullness in my hand.

Rich and warm, the skin, the scent, the touch of him. Nothing, Marie, like your own soft body, and yet I tasted him, and when he cried out at the touch of my lips, I saw you there, Marie. My God, my mind has fallen in shatters. You were there by the side of the bunk, your soft white hand upon his brow. How did you come there? What did you do, kissing your Tom as he cried out to us both? Tom, beloved, with his fine strong limbs and the trembling arch of his body. Touching my lips. Sliding slowly into my mouth. God help me, it was a sin terrible, a pleasure so sweet – my Tom. Such wild beauty. His hands twined into my hair; his body shuddered and clung to mine, flung down along my back with his lips kissing my neck. It was good, so good, as I took him to me, woke his spirit, brought him to hungry desire. We are but beasts. I know I shall be damned. But I trembled with the fire that ran through me, and though my hands shook, my heart, Marie – my heart was in rapture. When the moment came – when Tom cried out, and his body shook, and he pressed himself sweetly to my lips – I held him to me, close against my body, and – What words? What words can I say? The taste of him. The touch.

I might have lingered there forever, kissing that body that met my lips. Oh, good Tom. How kind he was to me. He drew me to him and murmured my name, gentle to my ears. Flesh to flesh. Naked. Pure. Tender. And his words, as he held me there – so soft, the brush of his lips on my ear.

“She will forgive us.”

The tears stung me, but I fought them. I kissed his body – so wild, so yielding – and all my blood woke to him. It was all I could do to tear myself away and come up to the deck.

And then –

Would that I had not.

Would that I had not gone. Would that I had not written. Would, God, Marie, that I had never sailed that day from Portsmouth, my eyes to the soft green hills and the little dell with the wooded church, and that last, long sight of you.

I would that I had never drawn breath upon this earth – but for that one day. That day long ago, when I woke at dawn to the cool green morning. I walked with you and Tom out to the strand to find the cattle up to their bellies in the dewy grass. Tom ranged wild before us, bold with his wooden sword, and I was but a boy myself that day. I walked beside you, carrying your pail, and felt a slow, warm wonder when my hand touched against yours. My eyes opened and I loved you, Marie, that day and always.

My mind. It will not rest. I have put this letter from me a dozen times, but it lies upon my desk, a cruelty – an accusation. His words are there upon it, though the ink has not yet shaped them. They rise up from the page to torment me. I cannot rest. I cannot think. God, I would that Tom would come to me. But he will not, Marie. He will not. And his eyes burn again until I weep for him, and I fear every moment to hear the cry of the men that will bring me the news of his death. What more is there, Marie? What more is there for either of us?

I came back to my cabin. He was there amongst my letters. He read them through, though I begged him not to. He wept, Marie. And then –

Too much. God, it is too much.

He said.

Marie. I love you.

“She is dead, Richard. She is dead these three months and more. Will you not face it? She is lost to us both.”

My heart, Marie. My heart.

“The Hesperus, at sea

February 13, 1865″

Can you ever forgive me those words? I would do anything to take them back. I would do anything, God, never to have heard them. Every time I lift the pen I see them, and – words fail me. Word fail me entirely.

Tom. Marie. What can I do but go to him, knowing the pain he feels? Knowing what sight is in both our eyes – your face, your sweet form – God help me. The churchyard. The dell. The flowers. The blackthorn that blossoms white over –

Over your –

Where you lie. Where I love you. Still. How can I, Marie? How can I release you?

But Tom. My only. How can I put him from me? What else is there left to me in all this world? What other heart like yours? Who knows the joys that we have known, who weeps, Marie, our sorrow – who but our one friend, our sweet companion, in whose company we never felt ourselves burdened, nor without whom, in truth, were we ever complete? That gentle soul sang with the love of both of us. All that was best in us, Marie – it lives in him, who witnessed it. It lives in us together. What other way, but this, my heart – that in us both you linger? You are the love that draws us.

I dreamed this noon in the burning heat. I dreamed, Marie, you smiled.

“The Hesperus, at sea

February 15, 1865″

My Marie –

He is here. He lies yet upon my bunk with the morning light upon him. So long the sun has been dull, the light from the window gray with dawn. But this morning, Marie, it touches his hair with gold.

I cannot tell you all the beauty of this night. But I need not, need I? For in the depths of the long watches, did I not see you with me? I write these words for you, my angel. I know that you can see.

I went to him. Last evening, when I had done my letter to you, my sweet, my love, my never forgotten. I love you. And so I went to him.

My Tom. His eyes burned, his pain so deep that it shamed me to see him. I had lingered so long on the hurt done to me – on the pain within me still. But it was not I alone who lost you. Can I call my loss more grievous than his, who never knew a day of his life not brightened by you, a moment in which your smile had not lingered upon his? Our Tom. He wanted my help so much, and I failed him. I left him alone on all the ocean to weep his loss – even of me, who should have been his friend. But no more, Marie. No more will I fear the love I bear him. For I have seen you smile.

He came to me last night. When the door had closed and we were left alone, I took him to me and begged his forgiveness. Then our good Tom, so strong for me, and for so long a time, when all the while his poor heart broke – he clung to me, and let out his sobs. I held him close, brother, son, comrade … oh, more than all these things, Marie. More than any of them. I kissed him with all my love on my lips and opened my heart to him.

“We have loved her,” I said – and did I not see you there in the cabin, smiling softly to me? Did you not touch your hand upon his head, where it lay against my chest?

“We have loved her,” I told him, my heart trembling, for I looked into your eyes. “Let us love one another.”

Did I feel at that moment your lips upon my brow? When I looked, you had gone into the shadows, but I saw you there, Marie – all the long and tender night.

I held him long, touching his tears, so strange with his limbs as hard as oak. It was always his way, Tom, that gentle heart so like your own. But himself, Marie. I saw this, in the grace and power of his touch, strong yet gentle upon me. I must love Tom himself, not only for you. I must – and I did. That day, Marie, so many years ago – my hand met yours, and in that one moment I knew that I loved you. This night, Marie, my hands touched Tom. They sunk soft in his golden hair, and I loved him.

You smiled, Marie. I drew his lips to mine, and this time I knew no fear. My soul was released. From torment. To Tom.

He was shy of me. Though my hands touched soft on his body and my lips brushed his own, his eyes turned away. He knew I saw you in him, his hair, his face – so calm and strong, God, how had I never seen the beauty of him? His hurt ran so deep that it struck my heart, and I saw what wrong I had done him. In following you so far, my love – unto the very grave – I had left poor Tom desolate, driven near to follow us both. Grieved with the wrong I have done him, I put all of my heart into a kiss. More – I kissed him, Marie, with hunger, for I saw too well what he feared still – that I made of him only you, that I loved him for his hair and his eyes and his sister, and that my mind was far from him himself.

Poor aching soul. He would have come to me though it were true. All he had, he would have given. But I saw him then, a man himself, and – ah, Marie, my heart. You are within it forever. But I love him. Friend of my childhood, brother of my days of happiness, and – lover in my mourning. Yes. My lover, and I to him.

We came slowly to it. I stroked his hair and kissed him, long, soft kisses that he returned. Still he turned half away; he scarce could put his faith in me. I drew him to my lips, held him close and murmured his name to him. I gave between my kisses my plea for forgiveness and my sorrow for the wrong I had done him. I swore that I would not leave him again – not in the flesh, nor in the spirit. I swore, Marie – and now I know that I need no forgiveness – that I would come back to him, nor spend my days in my heart kneeling by the side of your grave. There was comfort there, comfort and oblivion – but Tom calls to me now with love and solace, and my duty to him is grown a pleasure.

It was strange – so strange I have no words for it. But you saw, I know. How we kissed. How we touched. Naked on my bunk. How his eyes met mine, pleading that I would come back to him. How I longed to bring him peace, so much so that I – did not prevent him. This time. His lips closed upon me. I was glad – so glad. For an instant, Marie, I saw you – it is true. As you were that night when I lay quivering under your touch, and you kissed me in that way I had never known before. Your lips. God, yes. That night came back to me.

But I opened my eyes to him. I looked upon our sweet Tom’s face, his eyes to mine, aching only for some little sign, some gesture that he did more than fill your place for a moment’s release. Ah, Tom. Never that. Never that at all. I put all my love into my touch, and his eyes closed as I stroked his cheek. His lips – God, his lips drove me to madness. The soft stroke of his tongue, so gentle, shy, and hesitant that I knew what we gave each other this night – both of us clean and shy as lambs in the field, all new before us, bright in the instant, oh, and shining. My soul. For Tom. He took me in his mouth, so soft, so warm, so close about me – I shuddered and clung to him, and sobbed his name as through my body the adoration ran. Fierce. Aching. Ah, and ecstasy at once. I clung and kissed him through the pulse and wild thrill of my body.

Then he grew less shy, Marie – less fearful that I could not love him. Ah, my Tom. Forgive me that I ever put that doubt into your mind. His eyes began to soften and to shine behind the sorrow that had clung there so long, my God, how had I left him to sorrow so long? I kissed him – and what taste there was upon his lips, salt, strong, my own, his taste and mine together. I kissed his lips with a whisper of his name. The deep answer in his eyes – the grateful light that rose and burned there, the aching relief that I answered him at last – oh, how I felt it. The love of him, and how he had suffered for it, all these long months when I sank within myself. I kissed him again and took him in my hands, until he trembled and groaned and cried out near to breaking.

My name, he cried – my own, and yours, pressed to my body in that aching moment. I knew what he told me. He loved me the more for your touch upon me – for that he followed the path of your hands on my body, and took to him the flesh that was once your own. And is, Marie – and is. Yours still in heart, both of us, only loving you more, that we love each other.

This last offering I made him. This act of love together. This one thing between us two – that we could never share, Marie. That Tom alone could ever bring me. This I gave. This I desired.

I kissed his lips and put my hand upon him – his straight, strong length that leapt beneath my touch. I trembled then, for never – never had I done this thing, nor ever thought to do. When I drew him softly to me, he shuddered, though we clung close upon each other. It frightened us both. Were we men still? Were we sinners? Were we true to you, Marie, or to each other? Then he kissed me. Gently. Ah, sweet Tom. His lips upon my neck woke me to passion, and fear fell away in the warmth of our bodies. I, the eldest, ever in the lead, ever the first to order our days – I lay down beneath him and let him soothe me, close in the strength of his arms. The brush of his lips, the fall of his hair where he stooped upon me – God, Marie, it was heaven. I saw you then as you came out from the shadows and touched your hand upon his back. I saw you smile. My angel. It was not to comfort Tom alone that you brought him to me. How did I never see it? I thought you meant me to save him, and with all my heart, I would. But, ah, Marie – you saved me as well, and brought me safely home. God bless you. God rest your soul, for Tom has brought rest to mine.