Motion of the Ocean

Motion of the Ocean

It is said there is no place you could go more lonely than the sea. It is empty, featureless. No one to hear you, no other soul for so far as the eye may see in every direction. You are surrounded by a nigh-infinite void of water and sky; more distant and alone than anywhere else in the world. Not even the most barren desert or frigid wasteland compares with the solitude found in the mind-numbing vastness of the open-waves.

And yet, I have come to find there is another, even worse, form of loneliness. That which is felt when you find yourself alone when you know others are nearby. You breath and eat and sleep in an isolation made so much more profound by the knowledge that the companionship of others is to be found just around the street corner, or perhaps the other side of a line of trees. Through that unlocked door or beyond that small hill you know within your mind there are many others yet in your spirit and your soul you feel more forlorn and unaccompanied than had you truly been adrift at sea.

Never has an ocean vista seemed so great and uncrossable a distance as the empty space between one side of a room, within which you stand, and the other, crowded with folk and party and the conversations of the merry. Though true it could be said I speak with bias born of ignorance and credibility sprung from naught but hypothetical musing, as I have thus yet to be actually lost amongst the waves, long have I pondered this within my head and firm I stand in my belief. 'Tis worse to be adrift in the midst of mankind than alone in the mists of the sea.

It shames me to admit this, but I can of late no longer bring myself to endure that melancholic pain found in the company of phantoms, unable to discern if it is they or I that is but a simulacrum. Yet lacking the courage and resource necessary to embark upon a solo voyage, to let aside the anchors of obligation and worldly responsibilities, I instead find myself with increasing regularity patrolling a familiar station. To writ, I walk upon the shore.

For most the water's edge, particularly the sandy beach, brings to mind the warm sunshine and wind-swept chimes or happy times spent with family and friends. Romantic strolls, arm linked in arm, beneath a star filled sky or the pastoral idleness of fishing on a warm afternoon. Many are the honest and good memories such as these and often heard is the poetry or song which deigns to describe the hueful ocean sunsets with all the same words or phrases men use to flatter a dark haired lady, but they are not the only scenes to which the shore holds stage to.

Indeed, the place to which I go so repetitiously for purposes of my soliloquious ponderings hosts a very different atmosphere. A somber set of grays and muffled sounds. A time betwixt the sun first rising to lighten the world and the dissipation of the mists and fogs under its rays. It is chill then, and the sand beneath my bare feet is neither soft nor shifting, made gritty and prone to clump by the dews of the night.

It is a world defined by it's vagueness and lack of detail. A place without borders or edges, where each amorphous shape leaks seamlessly into the others. Distinctions are blurred, the ability to discern distance hampered. The waterline is endlessly smeared and scraped along the sand, never the same no matter how many times you behold it. Should one attempt to walk as best they could solely along this sinuous border they would know if their next footfall will touch down upon water or sand only at the moment of contact, so subtly do the elements blend.

Though I wander the shoreline daily, I do so not at the beckoning of any clock or signal. Rather it is the varying times of awakening from fitful sleep and the meandering paths from my home to here that determines the precise angle of the sun or level of the tide. I am fond of walking into the sea until my lower half is submerged, and standing at attention until the tide reaches it's apex. Some days it raises but slightly before retreating, gently lapping across my stomach before slowly receding. Other days the water envelopes me more and more completely until the salt fills my senses and each approaching wave crests above my head to slick back my hair.

How pitiful I must appear to any random passerby that should chance to stumble across me or happen to observe my curious behavior. A forlorn ghost of driftwood, half in and half out of the water, at the mercy of waves and slowly worn away. A piece of wreckage so immobile it is a wonder seagulls do not perch upon me, my sides speckled with barnacles and my limbs hung with limp black seaweed.

But Stranger, know that I was not always so lost and hollow.

There was a time, a mere shadow's length ago, when I was filled with such a vigor as to be unable to fathom the very notion of an empty shell. A time when I gazed so intensely into the face of both life and my beaming paramour and so little into a mirror of mental reflection that should I have been somehow confronted with it I scarce could have recognized my own visage. I had no time for thoughts of loss or misery even on a hypothetical level, for I was at the prow of a mighty ship and the wind rushing around my head drowned out all other sound. Including my own inner voice.

I was so strong. My arms were able to lift my lover or any suffering man's burden with effortless ease. I was a titan among shades, standing tall and proud with charisma and wit in equal measure, enacting my will and whims on the world around me for the betterment of all. Every horizon on every side seemed within my grasp.

And yet, even the most majestic of ships, no matter how white its sails or stout its timbers, is still just a ship. A child’s toy writ large tossed and tumbled in the fickle hands of Fate. All of a sudden, one crashing wave after another, I lost everything. I lost my crewmen and my captain. I lost the wind from my sails. I lost every chart and compass and guiding star. I had nothing, I was nothing. Just an empty boat, drifting aimlessly in a dark empty sea.

It left me stupefied. I had no contingencies, I had no reserves. Having not even considered the possibility that I would lose anything in a brutal shock I was stripped of all I had. I had never until that moment appreciated nor understood how dependent I was upon those keystones of my life. I was as a man unable to swim on the deck of a sinking vessel, first running to and fro frantically as the wreckage crumbled then floundering hopelessly, gasping then choking, flailing my arms in a futile attempt to keep my face above the waves.

And yet, my heart beats and my lungs, though prone now to slow and unprovoked sighs, are not filled with briny death. I am no broken beggar, living off the mercies and charity of others! My body is tired and my mind oft fogged, but I am still able. If there is but a single remnant of my former self remaining, it is the part of me that would dress smartly when no company is expected and keep myself looking presentable were I the last person in all the world.

If only my social graces were as neat and tidy as my fastidious appearance. Though no savior was there to rescue me as my shattered life sank beneath the waves, once the wreckage had settled upon the murky bottom and the fish had turned the bloated corpses to polished bone people did indeed approach me in respect and good faith. Their offers of assistance and expressions of condolences amounted to nothing. Perhaps I was too grieved to respond appropriately, or perhaps I subconsciously adopted a bitter and bullheaded desire to remain the sole occupant and ruler of the tiny inhospitable isle I was a castaway upon. I am never churlish or ill-spirited but I know that my quietly coarse and far-off gazing demeanor is unsettling to the few souls I interact with face to face, and thus the people here warn newcomers to be wary and keep their distance.

I became more and more despondent as the years began to pass. A frustration and loneliness which crushed down on my chest and corroded away my identity. On a day which had at first blush of light seemed like any other the weight of untold fathoms, for reasons unknown to me, called me to the shore more fiercely and directly than before. For the last time? I averted my eyes at the thought, and looked out once more only to shy from the ghoul reflected dimly in the window panes. I left in a haste, burdened not by coat or hat or even shoes.

Soon I stood knee deep in the chill water, restless and agitated but not knowing from whence or wherefore such feelings originated. Something was different. An energy hung in the air but I could think of no task or trial to apply it to. My eyes roamed the beach and bay both, impatient but oddly compelled to be present. I hovered at the edge of storming off, but then I saw it.

A ripple in the placid part of the water between the shore rumbling and deeper waves moved towards me with far more intent than any fish or driftwood. Curving then into a spiral it widened and slowed. But though it was a decent distance from me it looked as if the ripple was rising a little above the surface. And what by the heavens was that, which seemed to mimic the crown of a long haired head as the ripple was rent and up rose the mystery into the fog filtered light? I had to blink hard when to my wonder a woman slowly rose from the water no different than had she been ascending a great spiral staircase.

A woman, dressed and dignified. She did not swim or cry for help, casually walking towards me as if on some grassy boulevard. In the face of this inexplicable marvel I felt strangely calmed. Her silhouette told me she was clothed in a floor length gown but so subtly did the fabric and her skin blend it was hard to perceive what was covered and what was not. Tendrils of fog drifted lazily away from her shoulders, hips, and hands into the impenetrable bank. Her hair looked neither limp nor wet, in flagrant defiance of her Aphroditen arrival. It morphed and shifted with every step, at times as long and thin as the plunging waterfalls then sheared at the neck and angled forward along her jaw. I would have called it rather disorienting to watch had I not been so hypnotized by her body as she dance-walked towards me.

When she was closer I observed to my bemusement that while the water lapped around her ankles her submerged feet did not touch the bottom, the weird winding causeway which supported her clear as glass if even it existed at all. Nearer still she drew and after my eyes had climbed the valleys and highlands of her they were arrested by the shining circles set in the coves of her gorgeous face. I faltered then, my mind ripped from my rakish ogling no different than had a bucket of frigid basalt been hurled at my morning fantasies.

The irises were reflective as silver fish scales, with large pupils pale and lustrous as pearls. She neither blinked nor looked away from me as her approach suddenly took on a more predatory hedral. A tingle was birthed at the base of my skull and shivered down my spine. I pride myself on courage and stoutness in the face of strife, but what mortal would not balk a touch in the gaze of a shark? For a flickering instant I was struck by the notion she might be returned to haunt me, but surely there was no lady in any land or my own ledger whose face and figure where was perfect as this phantom?

So close now a fencers lunge would reach her, she continued walking past my post with feigned disregard, haughty in her calculated expression. Slipping around me like a slowed down cyclone, the upper hem of her garment seemed to ever almost fall but stayed at the final moment in a maddening tease. Around and around, looking everywhere but me, until her hand unfurled towards me with the tepid curiosity of that clever many armed creature from the deeps.

Her body had not seemed corporeal, but when her fingertips grazed my chest they were as real and solid as any. Her brush was fleeting, the most gentle of slow swipes across my shirt. As she continued to pace around me, her ethereal hand again alighted briefly upon my body. Smoke dripping fingers slide over my shoulder, flit across the muscles of my back, traced along my collarbone to gently tap my sternum.

I stared straight ahead, not moving as she circled me. I was bemused but not afraid. Was I standing safely within a lighthouse, watching the rain toss and twirl around me? Or was this misty apparition a corsair sloop, waiting for the moment to strike? Though my face was still, my hands clasped behind my back, my eyes followed her every motion.

She was gorgeous. That dress, could it even claim the title, did little to hide the swells and crevices of her form. She knew she was being gazed upon. Her every motion, every angle of her body was carefully chosen to allure and entice. Sometimes she sashayed, sometimes she strutted, but never did she simply step. With each pass around me she undid another button. I was impressed by her dexterity, so deftly did she undress me it never broke her stride.

She spoke, but I at first suspected it was merely the warbling of the water so subtle was her tone. Strange words, like no language I had ever heard. They flowed through my ears into my mind. Telling me things I can no longer recall. Secret things from the undiscovered isles and unreachable deeps. She pressed against my bare back and sensuously whispered in my ears, though I had not thought she was tall enough to do so. Her delicate hands unknotted the rope holding my trousers and down they fell.

I had not felt this excited for a very long time. No, that gave paltry credit to the effect she had on me. Never in my life had I been this erect. Long, thick, and stiff I strained against my own skin as she wrapped her voice around my soul and her fingers around my narwhal horn. Her elbows pressed in below my ribs and she stroked me, cusping my purse while rippling her fingers like the sailors roll around a coin. Serenading softly and seductively with that siren song.

Piratical greed surged within me and I spun, reaching out to grab her arms and moor her to me. Might I have more success trying to grasp in my fist the thread of smoke from a pinched candle, so futile was my attempt to seize her. I can not say what fey trickery she sprung on me to do so, but in a rush she kissed me so brazenly that she seemed to flow all around me, splashing my senses and forcing my eyes closed lest they be burned by rushing salt before receding away behind me. Wiping my face I jerkily turned swift as could be managed without stumbling to find her swaying backwards with measured steps.

In my hands I inexplicably held handfuls of her gossamer garment, silently being torn from her as she sleuthed away. Nude now as an untouched sandbar. The dress melted in my hands and I rushed forward deeper into the sea to reach her. She turned from me and flicked her soaked hair over one shoulder, elbows skyward as she twisted her locks with both hands like a bather. I wrapped my arms around her and crushed her to my chest, kissing her offered neck from end to end. My hands groped her firm breasts and she openly laughed.

Her hands held mine as we massaged her breasts together. While she pressed her rear against me I discovered concurrently parts of her to be soft as clouds and others hard as diamonds. I slowly rolled her icy nipples between my thumb and index as her thin fingers interlaced with mine. She contently squeezed my hands and rocked her hips as I pressed upwards from the front. Raising her breasts then spilling them to fall. Small beads of sweat or sea flicked off the peaks as they jolted to a halt. The way her breasts quivered from the aftershocks of the drop excited me.

Immensely. A surge of elated arousal ran down my body, and led me to twice buck upwards, driving my shaft at an angle to scrape between the curves of her bottom. Her mouth parted and the short cough-like sigh women make when they are both surprised and amused escaped between lips curved into a sly grin.

It pleased her deeply to know the effect she had on me. But part of her breathy exhale was pleasure of a more carnal nature. My sharp bucks had raised up her body slightly and broken without warning her undulating and cyclic grinding atop my manhood. She paused her motions for a moment, placing her chill hands atop her thighs as as she sought to steady herself from the ripples of pleasure rocking her lower body. Her slit clenched and unclenched, a trickle of her arousal dripping musically between her legs into the water which almost reached her cove.

I reached beneath her arms and began rubbing the undersides of her breasts. Avoiding the swells and summits, I pressed my fingertips against the down softness of her chest. I rubbed them near where the breast met the ribs and the skin creases to a downwards slope. I slid my fingers with firm pressure outwards across the bottoms of both breasts and up the sides, tapping lightly with all my fingers a melody across her slicked skin. Caressing the bottoms, massaging the sides. I felt more than saw two tiny rivulets of cold water start flowing from her nipples.

She shoved her rump against me unexpedectly then turned in place and laid her palms on the surface of the water. My eyes widened in shock I likely should not have felt by now as she lifted herself up without splashing through to sit upon the surface were it steady as a wooden table. Her fine legs kicked slowly within the water but the curves of her cheeks flattened as she laid upon her back; arms stretching past her head. I stepped forward and bent to kiss her stomach. There was no baby’s whirlpool within the center of her belly, but her abdominals were well defined. Enough to let me kiss each one in turn before trailing down and giving a hum upon her exposed pearl.

She gurgled in a pleasant bubbling voice as I licked and kissed her seashell folds, cool fingers snaking into my hair. Tugging me forward to her bosom I found my eyes but sparse fingerspans from her chest as it splayed to each side. I rested my cheek a moment on her swells and was soothed, relieved almost, to find there was indeed a heartsong within her. Deep and pulsing, reverberating distantly like the calls of unseen whales.

Placing my thumb upon her fragile quivering egg I spread my fingers into a vanguard then rubbed her coral colored flesh. My thumb rubbing back and forth, my fingers curling and uncurling whilst buried within her. Her nipples stood tall as topgallants over filled and unfurled sails, still lazily spraying clear water like minutely sized city fountains. They were beautiful and were saluted vigorously. I suckled her breasts and hummed full force around her cold nipple as I drank. She moaned and moaned, her abdomen visibly flexing and writhing as my mouth and fingers urged her more and more towards release.

The surf rushed in to splash around our knees and froth flew from the tips of the waves! A liquid more viscous and salty than even the sea dribbled down towards her rear as the zephyr rose to a wind stronger than any I’d felt on this beach and howled around us. She shrieked in ecstasy! An eerie echoing cry higher pitched than the gulls and sharp as shattered glass. Her legs swung up behind me and crossed tightly. She gurgled in lusty contentment and her voice bubbled as her slim form fell limp, her legs dropping and the backs of her hands brushing the sand below, inciting dustclouds.

Pushing herself back slightly she tucked her chin to her throat and smirked at me. Spreading her knees apart she flaunted with naked pride the pearl above her seashell secrets. Her hands stretched towards me and she motioned with fingers curling smoothly one side to another like waves approaching the shore. Stepping deeper into the waves I slide my hands from her hips up along the undersides of her raised thighs before supporting the backs of her knees. My orbs were now submerged and my manhood was above or within the water according to the waves. She seemed to settle down slightly on the surface as if the flat table had transformed into a feather bed.

I slid the tip of my manhood up the entrance to her slit, coming to the apex and dragging back down. There was no friction at all, a smooth and slick line as I split her lips. Upon reaching the bottom I pressed forwards. The tip and only the tip parted her opening, her labia cradling the rim of the head. I had half expected to be met with the chill shock suffered by an ill-aimed harpoon, yet her embrace was as warm and languid as bathwater. She tilted her hips downwards in anticipation and impatience. Electric trepidation rattled between us, our minds reeling with the heady sensation of leaning out over a lethal fall, no rail nor thing to hold.

I gripped her hips with both hands and rammed my manhood inside her.

Pleasure. Pleasure such as I had never felt before. Nigh mindless physical joy as I cleaved her soaking sheath over and over. She was hot and she was wet and she welcomed my throbbing shaft vigorously. Stormclouds of desire had built and gathered all the time of our tantalizing play, each glimpse and taste and touch of skin a rumble in a darkening sky. But now the waves and thunder crashed and I rent the sky asunder.

Fast. Each motion of my hips a lightning strike, one following another so closely in succession as to almost be a continuous flashing brilliance. So very jarring was the repeated transition from sinking my shaft inside of her to tearing it out, leaving for the briefest of instants a void she desperately longed to be filled. Each time I pulled outwards was a fleeting torture for her, only to be swamped with utter relief and ecstasy each time my thick and solid shaft returned to stretch and fill her.

Hard. I threw my weight behind each thrust, our bodies colliding with enough impact to send ripples through her flesh and mine. Every fraction of my shaft I drove within her until our bones ground together. Her breasts shook, roughly rocking forwards and back again in rhythm to our passion. The sight excited me, spurring me onwards. I lusted for her and she reveled in it. The fiercer and more deeply I pounded that drum the more beautiful and wanted she felt. She was slow to reach that point but once she had she was a hurricane of desire, not to be satisfied by anything less than equal force.

Her nails raked my ribs like coral rakes the underside of a ship crossing the reefs, headless of the pain and danger in the relentless pursuit of the horizon! My manhood plunged again and again and again into her depths as I drowned in the swirling ecstasy of her body. I could feel the wetness of her lust dripping down my thigh, a rivulet of slick desire overflowing from her clenched slit. She clung to me fiercely with her legs at the same time she pushed against my chest with her hands, arms straightened and taut. Her torso snaked side to side as she stretched to her full extent. The harder she pushed against me the tighter her slit gripped me, her body twisting and turning in a futile attempt to vent the excess passion from our lovemaking.

Her panting became heavier, began to take a deeper tone. It was ragged, an exciting contrast to the beating rhythm of my continuous penetration. Our ears were filled with the solid sounds of moist thumping, each of us entranced by the other’s rough and unsteady breathing. She opened her impossible eyes, tilting her chin down and looking at me with those shining irises half clouded with pleasure. Her mouth hung slightly open, inviting and erotic.

She was close! I could hear it in her panting, see it in the way she flexed every muscle. She needed me.

I bent down and captured her lips with mine. My arms wrapped tighter around her and my hands held her upper back. I lashed the tip of my tongue across the tip of hers, pulling her towards me a little harder with each moment. She pushed back, her legs squeezed my waist and her lithe arms strained against my chest. I kept driving my manhood into her over and over, my tongue chasing hers and my strong arms pulling her closer.

Thrusting. Pushing. Thrusting. Her legs holding me so tight. Thrusting. Kissing wildly! Thrusting! Thrusting!

Her arms collapsed! Her elbows flew to the side and her breasts slammed into my chest. She spasmed. Her slit clenching and twitching uncontrollably. I felt more than heard her start grunting into my mouth. An even slicker liquid than before gushed from within her and flowed over me. Squeezing and squirting between her walls and my manhood as I continued to quickly and aggressively thrust into her. Pleasure coursed through her like a flood. She broke from our kiss and sucked in an enormous breath. Her chest heaved and her icy nipples ground into my chest as she began whimpering in lustful happiness.

It drove me over the edge. She was gripping my manhood hard. It felt so good. Everything was soft and warm. Her sex satiated breathing filled me with an instinctual and primal pride. She was milking my manhood now, begging me without words to join her in orgasmic release. She wanted to be filled. She was riding white-capped waves of pleasure and giddiness and desperately longed to be filled with more than just my flesh. A craving, perhaps maternal in origin, for her inner depths to be doused with my masculine essence. Her soft hands stroked my sides and her ethereal, ghostly voice whispered to me how much she desired it.

I grabbed her flowing hair and tilted back her head. Kissing her firmly and intensely I pressed my pelvis into hers, pushing my manhood as far within her as possible and keeping it there. A sharp spurt of white gushed into her, and the feel of it gave her chills. I growled softly into our kiss as I pumped more and more of my seed into her. Shooting out with such pressure it nearly turned pleasure to ache. She began grinding into my hips, teasing every drop out of me. My mind was drenched with fulfillment and numbing pleasure.

We looked into each other’s eyes and together breathed in. Slowly, letting the air slide into our lungs rather than consume it. More and more, rising like the wall of a tsunami. Higher our sternums rose as we were filled. The tension stretching taut as she split those sculpted lips and scrapped the final droplets of salty vapor through them across her teeth before seguing to a savage smile.

Another step deeper.

Primordial comprehension woke within me and the wave cascaded down with a crash! I grabbed her, flipped her over, and threw her onto that impossible undulating surface only she seemed to touch. Crushing my stretched shaft into her sopping tunnel I gripped her hips and pushed. Pulled. Pounded her as my eyes struggled to see anything beyond her shaking rear. But I knew how she smiled. Jaw open to gasp but lips tugged tight to the corners as she exalted in her power and princessly prestige. Thrilled and aroused both bodily and by her own beauty. By her complete success. Laughing in triumph and shimmering with pride.

She climaxed repetitively and the tributary to her womb was so loose and wanton I could ravage her anchored by the knowledge she would not be harmed. As wild as the whitewater rapids I relentlessly rushed like the river which has broken the dam and careens downstream. Buffeting her until my muscles cried out for mercy and were whipped to continue by the lash of water flicking off her curves. Soon again I felt that vise on my scrotum and once more I geysered into this naiadian goddess. Wracked with sensations I struggle to describe I cursed and cajoled my body to fill her with every single seed I had to sow. Looking down the mistiness of her strange skin could not wholly conceal the cloud of pale writhing which spread slowly between her hips.

Sinking to my knees on spent legs, the water lapped over my shoulders as she slipped forward like a mermaid below the surface and smoothly turned to face me. Swimming leisurely a few kicks towards it she took my manhood into her mouth and sucked firmly on the tip. Her soft lips cyclically grasping my head and drawing from me whatever last remnants I had not the strength to squeeze out. Aquatic tendrils of milkish brightness ribboned like a lady's signature through the dust from the apexes of her leaking breasts as she moved submerged from the tug and push of the sea. Satisfied she floated to the surface and swayed upon her back along with the waves, looking upwards at me. 

 

My neck had become submerged and I could not prevent the water from splashing across my nose and mouth...

There was something unfathomable in her gaze. Something born in the blue heart of a glacier. Something dangerous. Her body and her face looked so close to human, and for those moments I was lost in lust she had almost felt to me as a woman of earth and flesh. And yet, her unreadable expression and foreign eyes were as nothing I had ever seen before. Those ivory orbs in their silver halos so stark among the sargassum of her defiant hair, completely unconcerned by the saltwater which sometimes swept across them as she stared thoughtfully at me.

A decision was reached within her. Speaking slowly with that voice heard only in the largest of empty shells, she drifted away as the tide receded. Suddenly coughing and sputtering, the passage of time became indiscernible to me as I knelt on the grainy bottom and listened to the echoes of her mysterious words. Outwards to sea she faded along with the morning fogs, until the sun pricked my eyes and needled me to action.

I knew not why this apparition had stepped from the vast unknowable into my embrace. I could not even begin to ponder where she might have returned or why she had not dragged me with her. What, if anything, would come of our union I can not say. But I knew what I wanted. What I needed. To sail. To go once more over the horizon.

Finally free from my forlorn fugue I rose from the water and stood erect and majestic on the sands. Pride and prestige restored and renewed! And should I become a commodore or command nothing but a lowly coracle I knew now that never would I be alone on the sea. If not ever once in my remaining days do I but even glimpse again what I beheld and held today, I will always know that somewhere in the waters there wanders...

An elemental.