Suzanne

We were quieter than usual, content to drink in the marvelous view. There were no tomorrows for us and I had no illusions to the contrary. Suzanne's destiny lay with her husband and children. This was a brief diversion for her, a need to connect with someone on a physical level; to feel like a woman, a sexual being. I was glad that the person she connected with was me.

You're a remarkable lady, I thought to myself as I gazed at her.

Sufficiently rested, we waded out in the ocean but eschewed body surfing for good ole down home horse play. We splashed and cavorted like two kids. When we were chest high in the water, Suzanne jumped on my back with one arm around my neck and a hand in my groin playing with my limp cock. I moved past the line of breakers to avoid getting clobbered.

We were waist deep when Suzanne embraced me and we kissed like desperate lovers. This was assuredly the last gasp, the last hurrah our last intimate moments together. For a long time we held each other, her head on my shoulder, me stroking her damp hair as the warm water surged around us.

Finally, I looked into Suzanne's eyes and saw the want, the need and I wanted her again too. Problem was my middle aged schwanze might refuse to cooperate with us; he was as limp as a strand of overcooked spaghetti. I had experienced more sex in one week than I had in the last five, maybe ten years. After the copious volume of spunk I deposited into her pussy, my balls felt like two shriveled raisins.

Suzanne gently fondled but it was in vain and I looked at her apologetically.

"Don't worry...I have my methods..." She was eyeing my little nips now puffy and red from her talented mouth.

But, she surprised me by dropping to her knees in the ankle deep water. Suzanne held my flaccid stick and slowly engulfed the head with her mouth. Holding my tired, spent nuts, she nursed my wilted willy back to life.

Suzanne raised her head and gazed proudly at her handiwork or mouthwork. My trouser snake was standing tall, ready for another dip in Suzanne's vaginal pool. We wasted no time and she pushed me onto my back at the waters edge.

Suzanne squatted over me and completely engulfed my rod with her dripping pussy. I decided to help matters and held her rump as she fucked me like I was never fucked before.

"I...want you...to remember...this... for the...rest of your life..." she panted breathlessly.

I watched with astonishment as Suzanne pumped her steaming hot slice up and down. The sensation was incredible and reverberated throughout my body. My orgasm was building slowly and she never let up, screwing me with a sense of purpose that went beyond mere sex.

Suzanne must have intuited that I was getting close because she dropped three fingers to her clit.

"Oh yeah...oh yeah...oh yeah..." she brayed.

In the hot tropical sun with the warm water lapping at our bodies, I gawked at Suzanne as her body stiffened. She drove her pussy down onto my cock with a lot of force and it contracted around my besieged rod.

"Oh sweet Jesus! I cuminggg!" she bellowed, and tossed her head from side to side, lost in whatever sensation she was feeling.

My penis erupted inside of Suzanne and it felt maddeningly wonderful. Gasping for air, we drug our bodies to the blanket and collapsed. There we lay, holding each other, not wanting to let go.

At the resort, I dropped the Jeep keys off with the concierge and made a bee line for my room. After a refreshing hot shower, I lay on the bed as images of Suzanne and what we shared kept playing in my head.

At some point I dozed off because I was awakened by loud knocking on the patio sliding glass door. When I looked, I saw Suzanne with an anxious, worried expression. It was dark outside, I obviously slept through dinner.

When I let her in Suzanne gave me a quick hug.

"You never showed for the Farewell dinner, I was worried about you," she said.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Past ten, I saw the light on and you sprawled out on the bed,"

Suzanne was smiling at me and it touched my heart. She looked happy, content, a far cry from the first day she set foot in Cozumel.

"I just wanted to say..." she started.

"You don't have to say anything Suzanne," I whispered and held her close.

"Rick, I hope you find someone. You're a good man and you deserve a good woman."

"If I do and that woman is anything like you...well...I'll count my blessings," I said. My emotions were running high and I had tears in my eyes.

Suzanne and I hugged for the last time. When she left, she blew me a kiss and I watched her lovely figure until it faded into the darkness. One of the most incredible weeks in my life was coming to a close.

The remainder of the trip was uneventful, even our flights were on time. In the parking lot of the dive shop, I bade Paul and Suzanne goodbye. Suzanne's eyes were full of mirth and her smile broad, inviting. I would remember her face for as long as God granted me time on this Earth.

**** Later that week my sister Annette stopped to see me. As I talked about the trip, purposely leaving out all reference to Suzanne, she studied my face.

"You met someone, you hooked up," she said seriously.

I nodded my head and she smiled. In recent years, I sometimes referred to Annette as the "Sicilian Strega" or "Sicilian Witch" and for good reason because I swear she was clairvoyant about certain things.

Annette chuckled to herself when I told her I had already signed up for another dive excursion to Grand Cayman.

"That must have been SOME trip to Cozumel," she stated with raised eyebrows.

The dive holiday to Grand Caymen was fun but nothing occurred even remotely close to what happened in Cozumel with Suzanne. Of course I met people and we shared in good times and the camaraderie that surrounds a scuba dive group.

In the months that followed my legendary affair with Suzanne, I thought about her everyday and wished her well, hoping that she had found some peace and contentment in her marriage.

On a Saturday morning in late October, I was on the dive shop website reading the Bulletin Board notices for up to date news about the members when I saw something that shocked me to my core.

"Congratulations to Paul and Suzanne on the birth of their daughter, Rylie Marie, 7lbs.3ozs. October 14th, 2006."

Immediately, I grabbed my desk calendar and started counting the months. Give or take a few days, it was nine months since the dive trip to Cozumel.

I was too stunned to even begin to contemplate the implications of what I had just read. There where so many question swirling through my head. My mind was boggled and I reread the notice repeatedly.

I wanted to pick up my cell phone and call Suzanne. But, what would I ask her? I would never interfere in her life and I think she was totally cognizant of that fact.

Was it a coincidence that she named her daughter Rylie? During the numerous conversations we'd had in Cozumel, I had revealed to Suzanne that in the unlikely circumstance I ever had another daughter I would name her Rylie, my favorite name for a girl.

Was it a coincidence that Suzanne's daughter weighed exactly the same as my daughter when she was born twenty years ago?

Why had Suzanne taken no precautions against pregnancy when we made love in Cozumel? Then again, it never occurred to me to ask her at the time. It had been years since, I had to worry about impregnating anyone, specifically my wife.

Suzanne and I fucked like two horny rabbits that week and it reminded me of the vacation my wife I and took to Cancun, Mexico. We were either sunbathing by the pool or in our suite, screwing each others brains out. Nine months later, my daughter was born.

There was the distinct possibility that Rylie was Paul's off spring. But, considering the sorry state of their marriage at that time, I had serious doubts.

Then I remembered that Suzanne told me the trip was supposed to be a second honeymoon, that she purposely didn't get a boob job because she wanted to have another child. Was she ovulating that week? She must have known; she probably planned the vacation dates to coincide.

Suddenly, I was flooded with emotion and I started to cry. Was Rylie my daughter? I couldn't bear to think that she was. Why me Suzanne? I had to accept it for what it was or I would go crazy. Rylie was Paul and Suzanne's daughter. The questions that plagued me would have to remain unanswered.

Suzanne told me she wanted a girl, to spoil, to pamper, dress up in cute little outfits and dote on. I remembered how proud she was of her boys when she showed me their photos.

What a remarkable, extraordinary woman, I thought to myself.

Images of Suzanne and I locked in an intimate embrace, our bodies entwined, seeking the joy of sexual release dominated my mind. She had given herself to me freely, I was convinced of that. If Rylie was a product of our affair, than I was thrilled for Suzanne.

I could see Suzanne's face, overjoyed by the new addition, breastfeeding with her large pendulous teats, holding little Rylie in her arms as the baby contentedly cooed and fussed; mother and daughter, together. It was a fantasy that I found some peace of mind in. It would have to do.