Feedback I received today: "Rotten diseased cheating cunts like you are what's wrong with this site. I hope your husband beats you to death then raped your corpse."
This is what I've always received, and will likely continue to receive. This is what you'll find if you read the comments to any of my LW stories. It's never bothered me, for a host of reasons. But I'll tell you what's bothered me- I came home from work today to find out that the site has pulled "The Beach House".
I'm actually quite shocked. I imagine enough people reported it and they had to take it down. They cited their guidelines about "snuff" when I clicked on the story, sadly living in the "sent back" tab. It never occurred to me it was snuff, and it was never intended to be snuff. I still don't say it was. I'd almost opened the tale with a PSA about how fucked up the story was, that the story seemed like a fascinating new avenue to try but obviously I wasn't condoning violence, but I once again grossly overestimated the intelligence of many of the readers that lurk in the darker corners of this increasingly bland site.
The readers that send me feedback like that, or leave it anonymously as comments, slither around and read all of my works just to fantasize about my death. I don't delete them, and Literotica must know they're on there. They don't delete them, either. So then where does this sudden fervor of morality come from? Of protection? I think it's fucked up, but I wouldn't be the first or the last person to be censored. Far better writers than I have been censored. Perhaps I should take it as a compliment.
I won't pretend this hasn't stung a bit, particularly because those who read the story and GOT it know that the ugliness some have suggested was never my intention. I have a project coming up on the site; that'll likely be my final contribution. As far as I'm concerned, they can kiss my ass.
Thank you to all of you who love me even though I have a crazy mind, and who've supported me all of these years. I write for you.
The Beach House
She looked sad.
Then again, she always looked sad now. I wanted to comfort her somehow, but I knew I would just make it worse. I glanced at the wisps of hair that flew back from her face, imagining how silky they’d feel beneath my fingers.
Her eyes met mine. I knew better than to touch her. She looked as if she might bite my fingers off.
“I’m starving,” I announced, my gaze swinging back toward the road. “How about you?”
Laura stretched and closed the passenger window. The car felt quiet and intimate inside. The sudden change emphasized the distance between us. I found myself wishing she’d crack the window open again.
She cleared her throat. “I’m not hungry.”
“Come on. You must be. You didn’t eat breakfast.”
She scanned through her phone. Her tone was nonchalant, but I knew I was annoying her. “Not hungry. If you want to stop for something, stop.”
“I’ll just wait.” I sighed, waiting for her reply. Surely there should be some reply?
Raindrops started covering the windshield. Laura scowled at the sky. “I knew we shouldn’t have come this weekend.”
“It’s supposed to clear up later. It’s going to be a beautiful night.”
“Sure,” she muttered darkly. Her attention went back to her phone. I had a fleeting fantasy of ripping it from her long fingers and smashing it on the pavement. Her bright eyes—what I fell in love with first—lifted from whatever held her captivation as if she could hear my thoughts. “What is it, Will? You’ve been watching me since we left. It’s starting to creep me out.”
I moved the car into the right lane of the Long Island Expressway so I could talk to her without fearing we’d get into a car accident. “I was just thinking it’s been so long since we’ve been to the beach house, and now we are just coming to shutter it up and sell it.”
Laura’s leg bounced up and down. That was her tell; she was definitely annoyed. “We never had that great of a time here, Will.”
“I remember it differently.”
“You remember most things differently.”
My foot involuntarily rammed down on the gas and I nearly clipped the car in front of me.
Laura and I had been having problems. In the beginning, I added, “…like most couples do,” to that statement, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that we were heading towards a very final outcome. I wasn’t quite sure what the end of our relationship would look like, but I could already smell that sickeningly scent of decay.
One might wonder where it all went wrong. I didn’t know. Dim memories of a young boy with sticky hands and Laura’s eyes came to mind, but I shoved them down. I didn’t think about that. Neither did she, as far as I could tell. If she did, she didn’t talk about it with me.
Laura yawned loudly. “God, how much longer?”
“Not much longer.”
I saw our exit.
It hadn’t all been bad. We’d been in love once. Isn’t that always the story? And it was true with us, obviously, or we never would have married.
She was sweet, intelligent, coy. She was my fantasy. I flattered myself to think I was hers.
We’d bought the beach house when we were very different people. We’d only been married a year and we acted like it. Laura whispered in my ear how she was intending on having sex with me in every room as the polite realtor walked us through the large rooms. I was arrogant; life had been good to me. She was radiant, as real sadness hadn’t touched her yet. Together, we were one of those couples.
We were happy. I remember her smiles, her glossy hair whipping in the wind. The realtor had grinned at us. We were feverish on the ride back to city, high from our luxurious purchase and high on the excitement of love and lust. I thought it would always be like that.
The house wasn’t as extravagant as I remembered it to be. Laura’s taste had changed from when she first decorated it. Now it was simple and homey. I couldn’t recall when things had changed.
I watched her walk into the kitchen. Her hands ran across the smooth countertop. She caressed the wooden cupboards, looking as if she were miles away.
What was she thinking?
She heard the creak of floorboard beneath my foot and jumped. She watched me approach.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’d forgotten how much I loved this kitchen.”
I stood next to her. “You worked hard on it. On all of this.”
Her shirt slid off her shoulder but she didn’t seem to notice. It made my skin burn up. After all of her coldness, all of the fights, I still couldn’t help my reaction to her. And she couldn’t help but be repulsed by me.
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It never really turned out the way I wanted it to.”
“I understand what you mean.”
Either I’d said it unconsciously with more meaning than I’d intended, or she just took it that way. Her face hardened and she shook her head.
“Will, do me a favor? Can you please stop walking around like a wounded puppy? It’s getting on my nerves.”
“I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
“It’s hard enough coming here without having to look at your sad face every minute.”
I was getting angry. “Well, if you’re sick of looking at my face, maybe I should go out.”
Laura made no attempt to keep me there. She shrugged. “If you like.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Absolutely nothing.” She flipped her hair as if it were nothing… as if I were nothing.
“We haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately, but that's no reason to be so goddamn miserable all the time. Do you have any idea how unpleasant you are?”
She walked away from me. My blood was boiling. I felt the unpleasant heat of rage wash over my skin and I itched with the desire to hurt something. Someone.
I reached over and grabbed her arm. She stopped moving, but she wouldn’t turn her head to face me.
“Do you, Laura? Do you get how lonely and depressing it is to live with you?”
“As if it’s some joy to live with you,” she said in a low voice.
She ripped her arm from my hold and spun to face me. “Do you truly think I can stand looking at you? I hate you. I hate everything about you.”
“I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”
She snorted. “Haven’t you?”
“You were supposed to be watching him!” she screeched.
Her accusation seemed to echo throughout the house. Then there was no sounds but our deep breathing.
Laura composed herself first, straightening out her shirt and stepping back.
“I was watching him,” I heard myself say. “The rip current—”
“He was out too far. You weren’t watching him. You weren’t.” She shook her head furiously. “Take some responsibility. For fucking once.”
I straightened. It was my turn to shake my head. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t. I came with you this weekend because you asked me, and because I wanted to say goodbye to the house. But don’t pretend we’re some happy couple. Don’t look at me. Don’t touch me.”
With that, she took her phone and walked to the bedroom.
I ate some snacks we’d brought with us. Laura had been in the bedroom for a while. It was nearly 8pm and I was growing concerned. In spite of her warning, I walked over to the bedroom.
I heard her talking. It was faint, but I could make out bits and pieces. Something about not being able to wait until she was home, and I could have sworn I heard “I love you”. She could have been talking to her mom, but something settled in me… something buried its way in my gut and festered there.
I heard her move around the bedroom and quickly went back to the kitchen. She showed her face a few minutes later, looking sheepish and tired.
“I’m sorry for exploding on you back there. It wasn’t fair. You know I just… I don’t like being here.”
She looked at the groceries we’d bought that I hadn’t yet put away. “Want me to cook you something?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I said I was sorry.”
“And I said I was fine.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. I watched as she prepared two steaks—one obviously for me, even though I didn’t want it. As if I was a robot, I pulled out two wine glasses and began to pour. She gratefully took her glass and drank a significant portion of it in one gulp.
“We’re going to have to talk soon, Will.”
I sipped my wine. “I know.”
And didn’t I. Who was she talking to on the phone? The curiosity and dread made me nearly sick.
Laura hummed a little as she glided through the kitchen, pulling together our meal. My eyes catalogued everything—the flush in her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes, the lightness of her steps, the vague smile toying with her lips.
I was growing more suspicious every second.
“Were you on the phone earlier?”
She paused as she chopped a carrot. After a calming breath, she recovered and shrugged one shoulder. “Just my sister checking in.”
My mind began imagining things. She didn’t seem like she had her phone on her then. Maybe it was still in the bedroom? Could I sneak in and check the number? Or should I just demand to see it?
Laura peeked at me. Her expression was enough for me and I knew. Suddenly I knew everything. How had I been so stupid? Or maybe I knew the whole time. It would figure that coming to this dreadful house—a tomb, as Laura called it—would make everything come to the surface.
“Who were you on the phone with?”
“I just said.”
“Laura. Who were you on the phone with?”
“Oh, please. My sister!”
I charged towards the bedroom. She was close behind. She tugged on my arm but I ignored her, aggressively tearing it from her with just a little too much roughness.
She tried to block me. I shoved past her. Her phone was tossed carelessly on the bed. I grabbed it and took three steps to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. I sat on the toilet and read. And read.
The stupid girl didn’t even have a passcode.
There was everything, spread out before me. Things I should have seen. Things I should have known.
Texts. Emails. Pictures.
How are you holding up?
Did you tell him yet?
Are you going to tell him?
I miss you. Come back soon.
Looking at the sofa. Remembering how I was inside of you last night. I love you.
And so on and so on.
And I knew him. I knew him well. A close friend. Jason. A very close friend. He’d hugged me at my son’s funeral.
Was he already fucking my wife then?
I felt dizzy. I put my head between my legs and waited for the nausea to pass, but it wouldn’t.
Laura finally knocked on the door. Her voice was a whisper. “Will? Please come out.”
I read the texts again. Looked at her pictures. Looked at the pictures of them together. Many of the pictures were of them smiling at different restaurants, looking like a very happy couple. A dark part of me wondered if she’d ever looked at me like she looked at him.
She was planning to leave me.
She’d already left me, hadn’t she?
Couldn’t she have waited? Couldn’t she have divorced me and then moved on to him? I would have felt betrayed, but not like this. Not like this.
I stood and unlocked the door slowly. The knob turned and there was Laura. She looked awful.
And I was still sitting on the toilet, her phone opened to one particularly lurid photo.
“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”
I laughed though it wasn’t funny. “How did you want me to find out?”
“Not like this.” She shrugged and a small tear traveled down her cheek. I was unmoved. For the first time, I looked at her not with longing or lust, or even a little bit of love. I looked at her with ferocious hatred. I wanted to crush her. I wanted to hurt her.
My mind seemed to be working something out. Different courses of action I could take flashed through my mind.
“Well. Should I be comforted by that?”
“No.” She ran her fingers through her hair, more tears falling.
I still wanted her. Why, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to cling to her and drag her to the floor. I wanted to be inside of her and make her cry in pain and pleasure. It was a stronger desire than I’d ever felt before.
Instead, I handed her the phone back and stood. I had a headache and I could smell burnt steak.
I was calm. My tranquility freaked me out. Should I be smashing things? Should I punch her in the face? Give her a black eye? Who would blame me?
All of those courses of action, all of the possible ways I could react, haunted me as I walked to the kitchen.
I turned the flame off. The steaks were saved. I poured the two of us more wine and waited for her to join me.
Slowly she crept in. I must admit, her anxiety gave me grim satisfaction. For once, I had the power. For once, she was trying to please me.
“I guess I should ask why him,” I began, “or would that be boring?”
“You were gone all the time,” she whispered. “Even before… so Oliver was my companion. I know you loved him, too, but I was home with him. Every day. Every minute. I never knew how deep a mother’s love could be.”
“None of this answers my question. I know how devoted you were to him.”
“When Oliver died—” She swallowed and began again. “When Oliver died, you were gone even more. Which was understandable. Still, I needed you. And I blamed you. The farther you drifted for me, the easier it was for me to hate you. I was lonely. Can’t you understand?”
“And then Jason came and ‘soothed’ you.”
“No. I pursued him.”
“I want to apologize to you. Obviously what I’ve done isn’t kind. Obviously. Losing Oliver changed me. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.” She took her wine glass and drank deeply from it.
I rested against the counter, watching her. “Why did you go after him?”
She looked at the floor. “I don’t know why. He was accessible. He was always around after, helping us out. He was strong.”
Laura’s gray eyes found mine. “I love him. I didn’t expect to. I didn’t want to. But he’s given me hope that I can be happy again.” She took my hand. “If I can be happy, so can you. I just don’t think we can be happy together.”
“So you’re leaving me, is what you’re saying,” I concluded lamely.
She didn’t say anything. I realized she had her fingers clasped around my hand.
I pulled my hand from hers and opened another wine bottle. I was thinking. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do. Beg her? Punish her? Throw her out right here and now?
I watched Laura’s expressions. She looked shameful but resigned.
“How could you do this to me? Didn’t you consider what losing Oliver did to me?”
“Yes. But it felt like you were miles away and I needed you. I needed someone.”
“And Jason makes you happy.”
It wasn’t a question, but Laura nodded, anyway.
I thought back to the day Oliver was born. Laura wept and wept. She was so happy. She held him proudly. She was a mother the instant she heard him cry. Maybe even before that. She’d hum and caress her belly, secret smiles on her face. Even then, I felt a peculiar sense of envy.
“Do you hate me?” she asked. She actually looked like she cared.
“Would it matter to you?”
“Of course. In spite of everything, we’ve been through a lot together. We meant a lot to each other once.”
I walked into the living room. She walked with me, slow and frightened.
I grabbed the bottle of wine. “Come with me. Let’s go down to the beach.”
She blinked and looked around the room as if she was confused. “What?”
“I want to talk out there. It’s supposed to be a beautiful night.”
Laura shook her head. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea. It’s dark out.”
“The stars are shining.”
Her eyes scanned my face. “You’re scaring me.”
“For old time’s sake?” I sounded pathetic but I needed to convince her to come with me. We needed to talk on the beach. It seemed destined now.
I told her I loved her on this very same beach. She was the first and last girl I’d ever loved. We’d had sex the first time on the beach. We married on the beach. It was meant to be. The circle had come around, and it was meant to end here.
Laura stared at me for a long time, deliberating something. She finally nodded. “Okay.”
She touched her phone, tempted to take it with us, but she noticed me watching and decided to leave it behind. It would be a conversation between just us. No distractions.
Laura followed me down the beach. The waves crashing in were loud, and the scent of the sea was overwhelming. I could still hear her humming under her breath. Wine made her hum.
That made me smile.
There were far less stars out than I’d thought, but it was still a beautiful night. I picked a nice rock we could sit next to with just the right of moonlight. I’d brought some wood with us and started a nice fire.
I sat in the sand and she sank down next to me. Her glass was empty so I reached over to fill it.
“Why did you take me out here, Will?”
I looked at her, really looked at her, and smiled. “Do you need to ask?”
“I wouldn’t think you’d want to have this conversation here.”
“So let’s not.”
She tilted her head. She still looked scared. “What?”
“Let’s just sit. Let’s just enjoy the night.”
She began to fidget. She was looking back at the beach house. I was losing her.
“I want you,” I admitted, my voice breaking.
“Will. This is just too weird.”
“One more time.”
Laura wrestled with something. “That’s not a good idea.”
I drank some of the wine. “You were attracted to me once.”
“That’s not it. I’m with Jason now. I know that sounds hypocritical but… and I think it would confuse things between us.”
“Believe me,” I assured her, “I know this is over.”
Something in my tone persuaded her. I knew I was not playing fair. As much as Laura had changed, I knew her at her core. She’d feel an obligation to me. She’d feel like it was owed to me.
And wasn’t it? I wanted to tear her apart. I wanted to get retribution. I wanted to take ownership back from Jason.
When she touched me, I closed my eyes. She stroked my thigh, my shoulder. I felt her warm, soft lips pressing on mine. Then her tongue pushed in. We kissed for what felt like hours.
The tension, the hatred, began to melt away until all I thought and felt was Laura. My eyes opened and she was still there, still intent on giving me my last wish. I pushed off her silly shirt, unhooked her bra. I could feel myself getting impatient, but I wanted this to last.
I heard her gasp when I stroked her breasts. I ran my thumbs against her nipples, feeling them harden. I sucked on her neck, feeling her pulse speed up. She was gasping against my hair. I let one hand drag down to her shorts. I let my hand rest against her clothed pussy; the writhing of her hips told me she wanted more.
“Will,” she moaned. “I loved you. I still do. I promise. In spite of everything.”
“Shh,” I hushed, pushing my hand under her shorts. I slid my fingers under the elastic of her panties and touched her wet, bare pussy for the first time in months.
She moaned and closed her legs, trying to hold me closer to her. Her hand snaked its own way into my shorts and held my cock. I nearly wept. It had been so long.
Patience, I told myself. Patience.
As badly as I wanted this, I wanted it to last even more. It would be a memory I’d want to recall for many years after.
“Are you sure you want this?” I asked her, now that I’d given her almost no choice. I pushed a finger into her as my thumb circled on her clit.
Her head fell back and she met my eyes. She looked pleasured but troubled. I didn’t want her to say no, even if I wasn’t sure I would stop, anyway.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I want this.”
We quickly shed our clothes. I could barely keep my eyes off of her in the firelight. Her long hair rested against her breasts. Her eyes glittered as she watched me lie her down on our tossed clothing. She looked like a dream and I just wanted to sink into her. I didn’t care if either of us woke up.
“You’ll need to pull out,” she said. Her voice was tight with arousal and worry.
I kissed her. She started saying something else, but then I entered her. She cried out and held my face to hers. Some beastly groan rose from my chest as I started roughly fucking her. I couldn’t stop. I tried to tell myself to slow down, to savor it, but I couldn’t. All I cared about was reclaiming what was mine.
Laura tossed her head back in the sand. “You’re going to make me cum.”
I pushed my hips against hers faster. “I want you to cum on my cock.”
“Slow… slow down a little,” she breathed. “Too fast. Y-you’re hurting—”
“Take it,” I ordered, kissing her again to keep her quiet. She moaned into my mouth. I could feel the tell-tale signs of her cumming and rode her harder. She scratched at my back, fighting to push me away.
I pulled away from her a little to breathe, as well as gaze at her beautiful breasts. I slowed my pace and she looked grateful.
“You’re glowing,” I told her. I traced her face with my fingers, committing it to memory. I leaned down and sucked a breast in. I could feel her heart beat erratically.
“I came so hard,” she panted. “Please. I want you to cum.”
“You do?” I asked, a twist to my words. Her eyes grew dazed.
“Because you love me?”
“Because all you’ve wanted to do is make me happy?”
I continued my frenzied pace, this time focusing only on my own orgasm. I let my hands drift up her body and fit around her neck. The pressure was soft, and it wasn’t something we hadn’t done before. She relaxed under my touch and continued to coax me to cum.
I was close. She could feel it. She knew my signs, as well. Her hands gripped my ass and her hips lifted to meet mine. I could see the mixture of pleasure and discomfort my rough fucking was giving her, and for the very first time ever, I didn’t give a fuck.
My fingers tightened around her neck. I started cursing, my thrusts getting deeper.
“I’m going to cum,” I managed to grunt. And then I released inside her, cumming deep in her pussy in spite of her earlier warning. She made noises of protests as I kissed her and filled her up. I felt satisfaction for the first time in a long time.
I lifted my head and looked down at her. I’d finally made up my mind. The finality of our situation settled in my bones. I knew what I needed to do.
She started saying something but I ignored her as the pressure of my hands at her throat tightened. Her eyes widened and her hands came to mine. She pressed against me and dug her nails into the flesh of my skin. I didn’t feel any pain.
The fire provided me just enough light to watch the life slowly drain from her. I could feel myself squeezing too tightly, but I couldn’t stop myself. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.
I moved away from her and sat facing the ocean. Time passed but I didn’t feel anything. Slowly the sky lightened. I looked over my shoulder and saw her dead body. It was perfect poetry, I told myself, not even knowing what that meant. I dragged her down with me to the edge of the ocean and watched the waves crash over our bodies.
I had loved her. And I had lost her. That didn’t mean anyone else should have her.
The cold waves washed over our legs and I shivered. Her skin was turning blue. This was where Oliver was buried.
She would have wanted this.