A tear slipped down my cheek. I bit my lip, hiding my face in the pillow. I didn’t want him to see. How could I explain? This wasn’t just pain. The pressure, too much. The stretch, unbearable. Yet, I wanted more. The tear wasn’t just pain. It was years of longing, of wanting him to take me in ways no one else had. Now it was real. Pain and need tangled, unstoppable.
His cock stretched me wide. My body tensed, then gave way. My hips moved back, meeting his thrusts. Pain blurred into something darker, primal. My fingers found my clit, rubbing furiously as I gasped, trying to balance the ache with the pleasure pulsing through me.
I wanted to scream. Wanted to beg him to tear me open. To take everything. Dark thoughts pounded through me—raw, unstoppable.
I wanted to scream. I begged him. “Tear me. Break me apart.” His hands gripped harder. I arched my back, offering more. My body shuddered with every thrust. I needed it. I needed him to push until I was nothing but his.
“Rob, you’re fucking my ass,” I cried, feeling my body stretch around him. I felt like I was flying, like I was riding a unicorn, weightless and lost in the sensation. I pressed harder, bouncing on his cock. Every thrust, every bounce sent me higher.
Then he slid three fingers into my pussy, and the feeling of being filled in both places at once overwhelmed me. It was more than I ever thought I could take. My mind spiraled—what was I now? A slut? His whore? A girl who gave herself completely, in ways I never imagined? My body was no longer mine; it was his to claim, to fill, to push further than I’d ever allowed anyone.
But in that moment, I didn’t care. I realized I could be anything—anything he wanted. I was open, raw, exposed, and it felt like a revelation. I was his, fully, utterly, and I wanted it. Every inch of me responded to him, my body craving what I thought I’d never give. It wasn’t about being degraded; it was about surrendering to him in every way.
His cock filled my ass, his fingers deep inside me, and all I could do was feel—feel how completely I was taken, how I belonged to him. Each thrust, each movement of his fingers, pushed me closer to the edge. It was more than pleasure, more than pain—it was freedom. I was becoming everything I thought I wasn’t, everything I had been too afraid to be.
I caught my reflection in the mirror—my body stretched around him, trembling, open, wanting. And in that reflection, I saw not just a girl breaking her own rules, but a woman who could be anything for him. Anything. And everything he could ever want would be me.
I was double penetrated. I glanced at the mirror and saw my reflection, my mouth open in a silent scream, watching as my body was fucked, juices spilling out everywhere. I felt he couldn’t hold himself anymore, he started to cum inside my hole, I screamed from the sudden expansion. “Oh god, Rob, you came, you…I’m gonna… I’m gonna…, ROB I’M GONNA….”
I let out an enormous scream; the whole town would have listened. I lifted my pelvis off his cock, leaning on my feet, took her fingers out of her pussy and then it happened: I saw my pussy shooting out a stream of fluids, as if I had a plug that someone had pulled out. I was peeing and it wouldn’t stop, I was screaming, choking on the screams, the fluids kept shooting out, I had peed on my fingers, on my pussy, on Rob’s legs, on his belly. I could no longer support myself on my legs; I collapsed on him. I turned over on my side on the bed, motionless… completely still… I was literally trying to breath, but even this was difficult.
It was some time before I began to come to my senses. “Oh shit, damn you, Rob… Fuck… I think I peed on you.”
He laughed softly, hugging me. I tried to pull away but he hugged me again. “Baby, you didn’t pee… you squirted.”
“Squirted? So…it isn’t a myth?”
“As you see, it’s not,” he laughed.
I closed my eyes, fulfilled. In every sense of the word. I tried to sleep. But I couldn’t. I recalled the last moment: as I heard him call me ‘Gail’ a shiver ran through me, deeper than any touch. It was the name I chose, just after Alice passed away; a rebirth, although Rob kept calling me Abigail. Until this moment. So, I felt he wasn’t speaking to the girl he’d once known, the echo of the child he knew —he was speaking to me.
But then, a shadow fell over that newfound bliss. Did he whisper her name like that? Did he….do the same…to her…? How many women were there before her? How many after? The thought of another made my stomach twist with jealousy, burning me from the inside. And yet, some twisted part of me wanted to know. Wanted to feel what they felt, even taste it—taste him on them. SHIT. Was I just a fucked-up slut who wanted to be assfucked by the same man who had done it to her mother, driven by nothing but jealousy?
Why was I always like this? Why couldn’t I just be enough in this moment? No. No, no, no. I clenched my jaw, fighting back the intrusive thoughts. I had battled these demons before, the echoes of my past insecurities. I wouldn’t let them poison this. That’s why we were there, in Sardinia. I was Gail, his Gail. This wasn’t about Alice, it was about us, about him and me in this exact moment, stripping away all the fears, the hesitations. With that, I slept.
I woke up in the middle of the night to see the way he breathed, the way he laid his big arms on the bed; I could see the veins in his wrists, the beat of his heart under his chest. I was there beside him. He was mine. God, it was real, at last, what I had been wishing for, what I had been praying for with all the strength of my soul, night after night for almost two years. I was his, he had filled every fiber of my body with semen, and he slept peacefully. Would he ever feel how much I loved him? Would he ever feel that I could do anything for him, anything at all, with absolutely no hesitation, without blinking an eye?
As I looked at him sleeping, other thoughts crossed my mind. The implications of the return weighed heavily on me. The day after tomorrow. What awaited us back home? I could continue to feign grief, playing the role of the heartbroken step-daughter for the crowd… but I knew that, in time, the whispers would start. People would talk, they would piece things together, and they would realize that it didn’t add up. Could he withstand the judgmental stares, the hushed rumors that would inevitably escalate into open condemnation? I wasn’t concerned about myself; I could weather any storm. But the thought of him being hurt twisted my insides. Beneath that imposing physique, that warrior’s spirit, beat the most tender of hearts.
What would happen? Maybe we could move to another town, another state. He would find a similar job, a better one. I’d do full research, looking jobs at every major city. Noone would know our background story. And I could easily go to another college. I would apply to schools with similar courses and would see how many of my credits would be transferred. And I would compete in championships of other states, even national ones. And I would win every game, I would earn big money so that we wouldn’t care about anyone at all. Just to be with him. And I would make his babies. We would make a large family, with noise and laugher and everything.
Only us. Nothing else mattered.
I pressed my lips to his, soft but certain, and in that kiss, I poured every unspoken reassurance. Whatever ghosts lingered in the past, whatever judgments surrounded us, we would rise above it all. Together. We were more than the whispers, more than the stares. We were untouchable, just us, right here.
He slowly opened his eyes from the sleep. He saw me gazing at him.
“Only us,” I said, the words a mantra, a shield against the doubts. “Nothing else matters.”
PART FOUR. PRESENT. JUNE 4. LAST NIGHT IN SARDINIA.
The dark sea stretched out before me, the wind wild, the chill of the night biting at my skin. Wet sand clung to my feet, leaving deep marks with every step. I’ve never seen a night so bright. I had asked Rob to leave me alone on the beach, to give me a moment. The distant lights on the far side of the shore flickered, like candles in the wind.
I undressed and waded into the sea. Colder than the days before. I swam hard, furious at first, then drifted on my back, letting the water hold me. The stars felt so close, like I could reach up and touch one if I stretched. I was alone. If I drowned, no one would come.
On the first day here, when the sun burned the sand beneath my feet, I wondered if our love would melt under the sun. I gave Rob everything—every inch of me. I let go of everything. I became his.
As I was going out of the sea, putting the black kaftan he bought me from a local store, with the drops of the sea running over my body, seeing the stars again, I felt it: everything I did I was to keep Rob close to me, not letting him be afar. I felt that Rob might not love me, not even want me before I made the move that night on his bed. I made him want me. I did everything so that the shadows wouldn’t swallow him. That Alice wouldn’t haunt him. We came to Sardinia, and I knew what I had to do—to let go, to break free. On the third day here I cliff-jumped at Cala Goloritzé. I closed my eyes as I leapt, praying for Alice’s ghost to stay behind, to release him; to let us be.
I returned to the apartment, my skin still salty, my heart still thrumming with the echo of the sea. I kissed Rob and asked him to fill the last glass of wine.
I needed something to be written; to be recorded. For the future. For any day to come. I took my calendar. I sat down and picked up my pen.
I don’t know if my prayers have been heard. But this night in Sardinia, the very last night of our vacation, as I’m writing these words, as I feel this wind, I hope that the forces of life and the memories of those who are absent will let me give him all of me, all of my body and soul, and make him love me. There’s a lot to overcome back home. But here, in this dark sea, writing these very words, I realize that I don’t care. I am ready.
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