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PARADISE (LOST) By Nils Huim
Fran returned from our beach house carrying two smoothies in tall glasses graced by sprigs of mint from our garden. She was bare-breasted but wore a hibiscus-themed sarong whose hem angled across her calves. Her slender, graceful feet were bare, her nails painted an aqua that, in all but their opacity, matched the color of the gently lapping water of our private cove.
After handing me my glass, but before seating herself on the cushioned chaise, Fran loosened the sarong and let it fall to the sand. She wore a white bikini bottom underneath that brought out the contrast of her bronzed skin. I was similarly tanned, and wore a tri-color Speedo.
We clinked glasses.
"To paradise," Fran said.
Our smoothies were made from fresh coconut, papaya, bananas and guava from trees surrounding our beach house, along with fresh strawberries and blueberries bought in the open-air market in town's center about seven kilometers away. Although our life together here was so private it might as well have been a thousand kilometers away. We rode into town on our bicycles and carried our groceries in baskets mounted on the front. Sometimes Fran wove wildflowers through the basket grates.
When you first sipped one of Fran's smoothies it was so blender-cold it hurt your teeth. But once you got past the shock of it the exotic flavors combined to make it seem like the nectar of the Gods. It was all you needed in the morning. Not coffee, not teaÑno stimulants. Just one of Fran's smoothies in a tall, cold glass.
"I never get tired of this view," Fran said, looking out through lollipop shades past our beach's white sands and the transparent waters of the cove at the dark-blue waters of an endless ocean beyond.
"No, it's paradise all right," I agreed. "I just wonderÉ"
Fran looked over. "What, darling?"
"No. Nothing."
For her second life Fran had chosen the age of 29. Fully mature but still youthful, her modest but perfectly formed breasts upcurvingÑstill buoyant and firm. Her pink-brown aureoles the size of nickels. Fran was tall and slender, her belly flat and her long limbs supple and toned. Her hair was straw-blonde, her eyes brown. She was beautiful. She was exquisite. In the old life she used to love horses. She had grown up something of a tomboy; a daddy's girl.
I had chosen the slightly older age of 32. Growing up, and well into my twenties, I'd been skinny. But by the time I reached my early thirties my body had filled out a little. I'd become muscular, in a lean sort of way. Like Fran I was tall and had long, slender legs. Fran used to joke, in the old life, that with my legs I should haveÑcould haveÑbeen a girl model. PersonallyÑand not to be overly vainÑI thought my legs, even in later life, were too skinny. But Fran said that was exactly her point: I had the legs of one of those bulimic runway models.
Also, at age 32 my dark-brown hair had not yet begun to thin, and recede. And my relationship with Fran, going on six years at that point, had not begun to go sideways. To get weird, and ever-more kinky. And spiteful. Contemptuous, even. At 32 Fran had not yet shaved my legs and dressed me in a pair of her panties and had me parade around in front of one our "friends" while saying: "Don't you think she'd make a good runway model?"
"WellÉaside from his cock and little balls maybe."
"Well maybe you should cut them off." Spiteful, like I say.
Now, given a second chance, a second life, Fran draped a limber right hand in the space between our chairs and I took hold of it. Her fingers still death-frigid from the frosted-over smoothie glass.
"What were you going to say before?" she asked.
"When?"
"Just now. You were wonderingÉ?"
"Oh. No." I hesitated. Did I really want to go there? I'd always been such a cynic in the old life. "We've been here what, a year?"
Fran nodded. "In earth years. About that, I guess."
"Well I can't help wonderingÉ"
"What?"
"How it will be a year from now. Or ten years. Or after a hundredÉ"
"How will what be, the beach? The cove?"
"No, our feelings about it. Will it ever get old? Stale? Boring?"
"It's paradise. How could it get old?"
"I know it's paradise. ButÉ"
"This place, this view," Fran said defiantly, pulling away her chilly fingers, "will never get old for me. Not in a million years."
I started to speak; stopped. Conceded, finally, "No, you're right, darling. How could it ever get old?"
"And when I do get bored," Fran said, "I ride my bike into town."
"Town, yeah."
"And we have our friends there. Not that I ever really get bored," Fran hastened to add.
"Me neither. It's great here."
"Beyond great."
The sun, the morning sun as we called it, was midway up the cloudless blue sky. Its rays would have been directly in our eyes if not for the fronds of the flanking palm trees. It was warm but not hot. In paradise it never gets truly hot. Or cold for that matter. I sipped my breakfast smoothie. It had mostly liquified by now.
My wife, I realized, was leaning forward, staring off intently to our right.
"What?" I asked.
Fran lowered her shades. "Is thatÉ?"
"What, dear?"
Fran pointed, her golden arm held out straight. "Over there. Just entering the rim of the cove. Is that aÉ?"
I too was leaning forward now, peering around coconut palm's curving grey trunk. "It's moving, whatever it is."
"It's a man."
"You sure?"
Fran nodded. "Human, anyway. I think it's a man."
"What's he doing on our beach?"
"Walking, it would seem."
"Trespassing."
"There's no laws are there?"
"I don't know. We've always had the place to ourselves. It's never come up before. Next time we're in townÑ"
"Oops!" Fran laughed, covering her mouth. Her lips were unpainted. She wore very little makeup. She didn't need any. Besides, she was a latter-day tomboy. She would shimmy halfway up a coconut palm. All that was missing from her paradise was a horse.
"What?" I asked.
Fran was still giggling behind a hand. "He's naked."
"Naked?" Fran had better eyesight than I did. In choosing my second life's age I forgot that by age 32 I'd begun to wear glasses. For distance.
"Very very naked."
"Oh. Well that's cool. I guess."
"I don't understand why we don't go naked. No one ever sees us here."
"Not until now. Besides, you're naked."
"Half. I better cover up," Fran said, lifting her sarong off the sand and giving it a shake.
"I don't like swimming without a suit on. I mean I do and I don't. But not when I'm out spear-fishing."
"Afraid a fish is gonna bite your little pee-pee off darling?"
It was perhaps the most cutting thing Fran had said to me since our second life began. And it reminded me of the first. The end. "No. It's just thatÉit kinda holds everything together."
"I don't have that problem," Fran said breezily. Then, as a concession: "But I know what you mean. I like to have a top on if I'm doing anything, you know, strenuous. God," changing the subject, "look at him. He's an Adonis!"
The man, the stranger, was walking with a swift gait. Long strides. He was about my height but thicker, muscular. He had dark hair. He was close enough now that I could even see his dangling genitals. "I wouldn't call him an Adonis," I said.
"What would you call him?"
"Weight-lifter?"
Fran blew derisive air, lifting a few strands of stray straw-blonde off her forehead. "He's not built at all like a weight-lifter. He's justÉnaturally muscular. Strong-looking."
"In the old life I'd say he was built like an NFLÉWhat did you say?"
Fran had flung herself against uplifted chaise's back. She blew more air. "God he's well-hung!"
"OK, calm down dear. The first stranger we've seen on our beach in a year and you're getting allÉ"
"Getting what?"
"Well, testy for one thing."
"You're just jealous."
"Of what? Him? I don't even know the guy!"
"You have eyes don't you? You can see how, well, big he is."
"Christ, Fran. One look and you're smitten with the guy?"
"Smitten?" she giggled.
"He's probably gay."
"Gay?" Fran saying this as if I'd just spoiled her birthday party.
"Aren't most guys who go nude at the beach gay?"
"You would know."
"Now why would youÑ"
"Oh God, look out. He's coming over."
As he got closer, walking along the surf line, the stranger had glanced over at us once, twice. A third time. Now, however, he altered his course and was walking with the same long strides at angle toward where Fran and I sat. The closer he got the higher Fran raised her covering sarong. He kicked dry white sand up as he walked. He stopped. Gestured.
"Oh jeece, man. Is this like a private beach. Am IÉ?"
Fran looked at me. I said, "Well it's not a public beach, butÉ"
"Oh man, I'm really sorry for protruding," meaning intruding, I assume.
"You're welcome here," Fran said. "No problem. Everybody's welcome."
Everybody? Wasn't paradise primarily aboutÉexclusion? "Hell is other people," as a philosopher once said.
The stranger made like he was wiping sweatdrops of relief off his brow. He was coming forward again. Fran may've gotten a case of modesty but our visitor had no such reservations. He made no attempt to cover his cock and balls. Which would have been a sizable task at any rate. In fact he came right up to our chairs, put his hands on his hips and grinned.
"Beautiful day in paradise, huh?"
"Gorgeous, yeah," Fran agreed. Behind her shades was she, like me, finding it impossible NOT to stare at the man's endowments?
"You guys live here or just renting?"
I looked at Fran. Renting? "No, this is our place," I replied. The stranger was glancing aroundÑas if searching for nonexistent monkeys or something high up in the coconut palms.
"Nice. Really nice. Cool. I'm jealous."
So am I, I thought, thinking back to Fran's remark.
"I just made us smoothies. Would you like one? I think there's still some left in the blender."
The stranger waved his hands. Safe! "No, thanks dear. Thank you. I just had fruit and yogurt back at the hotel before I took my walk. And granola."
"Sounds healthy."
The stranger refreshed his grin. Flexed. "I try."
"Honey why don't you get him a chair?"
Another hand wave. "No, I'll get it. Where they at?"
I pointed. As he disappeared behind a small hibiscus hedge Fran looked at me and mouthed, unmistakably: WhatÉanÉass! As in male buttocksÑnot the dumbshit pack animal literally or figuratively speaking.
I watched as he carriedÑnot draggedÑa wooden green Adirondack chair over and plopped it in the sand at the foot of Fran's chaise. He sat. He grinned. If he looked straight aheadÑand soon he didÑhe would be staring directly up wife's mostly naked body. I found this ominous.
"It's the damnedest thing," he said, mostly to Fran. "I feel like I know you guys from somewhere. I know they frown on intermixingÑis that the word?Ñpeople from your past life with your present butÉ"
Fran, under the man's gaze as much as she was the sun's rays, cleared her throat. "So you're staying in town? At the hotel?"
"Just visiting?" I asked hopefully.
"No, I'm probably here to stay. We'll see. I'm just starting out in my second life. This is where they sent me. Damn I feel like I know you two!"
The stranger finally took his eyes off Fran long enough to glance over a beefy shoulder. "Wish I'd gotten up earlier. Bet the sunrises are spectacular here."
"And the sunsets," Fran added. I spoke up. I wanted to keep an iron in the fire so to speak.
"We have two suns here. A morning and an afternoon. Early evening." I pointed through the emptiness straight ahead of me. "So the morning sun rises over the cove and theÑ"
"Afternoon sun sets on the cove," Fran smiled, finishing my sentence.
"Wow! All in one day! I'd like to see that sometime."
"You can probably see it from the balcony of your hotel," I was quick to add. "Or on the rooftop. They have a pool and tiki bar up there don't they?"
"I haven't checked that out yet," the man said, turning serious all of a sudden. He shook his head, as if troubled. Leaned forward. Put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, thus blocking ourÑmine anywayÑview of his magnificent drooping cock and plum-sized balls. He was circumcised, his head both bulbous and rosy. It made my mouth water.
"I just can't get over this sense of DŽjˆ vu I have." The man looked upÑat my wife. "Can I ask you guys something?"
Fran shrugged. "Sure," she blithely agreed.
"Back in the dayÉin your past life?"
"Yeah?"
"Were you guys ever into, like, really kinky stuff? I mean with another guy? With a Dom?"
I felt the blood drain from my face. I could even feel itÑsense itÑdraining from Fran's. What?!? Fifteen minutes ago this guy was a speck on the horizon. And five minutes ago we'd never seen or spoken to him before in our lives. And now he was asking us personal questions about our sex lives? In another life? Come again?!?
"I don't mean to pry, man. I'm justÉfloored by the sight of you guys, that's all."
In retrospect I know what I should have said at that moment. I should have lowered my shades and looked the intruder in the eye and said, I don't think that's an appropriate question at all. Or better yet, Frankly, that's none of your fuckin' business, dude.
And that might've ended things right then and there. He would've waved his hands again in apology and I would have risen off my chaise and he would've stood up and the message would have been clear: Beat it. And I don't mean that big piece of meat of yours hanging down.
And he would've probably said something like, Sorry, man, didn't mean to offend you guys. It's just thatÉGuess I'll finish my walk andÉhead back to the hotel. Sorry. Ciao!
Forget I was ever here, guys.
Instead, to my everlasting (literally) regret, I looked at my wife and she looked at me and I looked at the asshole stranger and I saidÉ "We did a little of that. Back in the day. Our past life."
The stranger spanked his own right knee. "I knew it! I knew I knew you from somewhere!"
Fran, frowning doubtfully: "But you don't look familiar to me at all."
"No. I'm not saying I was one of them. That's not how it works. It's just that we can sense things in this life, some of us, that kind ofÉopen a window up on what went down in a past life. It's likeÉremember that movie The Shining? Scary as shit! Well it's sort of like that: shining." Another dismissive wave of the hands. "No, Fran, I'm not saying I was in the same bed or bedroom with you and him or anything butÉ"
I raised up slightly. First at having been spoken about as I wasn't evenÉpresent; and secondÉhow the fuck did he know Fran's name? I hadn't referred to her yet by name!
"Mind if I ask what you guys got up to with your Dom? You do know what a Dom is, right?"
"I thought we'd already established that," I said, trying to sound as prickly as I could. The stranger, unfazed, smiled at my wife. He was leaning forward again, practically over Fran's crossed ankles. Her silver toe rings.
"What'd you and him here get up to with your Dom, Fran?"
My wife glanced nervously at meÑthen back. She hesitated. "WellÉ," she sighed. "We actually went through a few of them. UntilÉwe sorta found the right one."
That's as far as she got in one unnerved throw.
"So what did you do after you found the right one? And what do you mean by right?"
"WellÉ"
"And were you both subs or was it just Adam here? Was it a cuckold-type thing orÉ?"
Fran and I had both just exchanged open-mouthed glances. How did he know my name was Adam!
Fran gave it another diffident try. "Well..weÉI had sex with him, sure. So I guess you could sayÉit was cuckold thing."
"Was he in the room?" He being me.
"Oh sure, yes."
"So he fucked you in front of Adam usually."
"Always," Fran nodded. She grew more adventurous. "He would tie me to the bedÉI was naked, of course. And he would tieÉ," tossing her head to the right, at me, "Adam to a chair."
"Was Adam naked?"
"I'm right here, you know." The stranger acknowledging this with his patented grin. But otherwise ignoring me.
"No," Fran said haltingly. "No. Our Dom made him wearÉpanties. Women's panties. A pair of my panties."
"No shit?" The stranger seemed beyond...ecstatic. "Then what?"
Fran kind of screwed herself deeper into chaise's cushion, inadvertentlyÑI thinkÑbaring her left breast. "Well after he tied both of us upÉhe would make AdamÉ"
"I performed fellatio on him," I interrupted.
"You sucked his cock."
That was another, blunter way of putting it. I nodded.
"Did you fondle his balls?"
"Well no," I replied. "I was tied to the chair at that point likeÉlike Fran says." I took a deep breath. "But other times he would make me suck him before he tied me up. And then, yeah, down on my knees, yeah, I'd fondle him andÉand caress his ass and all that...stuff."
"Sounds like you enjoyed yourself."
Fran replied for me, "He did."
"So he made you suck him until he was hard?"
I shook my head. "NoÉheÉhe was usually, I mean alwaysÉalready hard."
"It was just a domination thing," Fran explained.
"But he enjoyed it."
"Our Dom orÉ?"
"No, Adam here."
"Sure," Fran said, finger-combing some hair from her flushed cheek. "The whole point of submission isÉWell, you derive pleasure from it despite theÉpain."
"Or humiliation."
Fran nodded.
"Did he ever make your husband, you know, prance around in his little panties?"
Another nod. This an eager one. "Oh sure. In panties. Lipstick. Sometimes one of my brasÉThey were too small for him, of course," Fran giggled. "Stockings. My stockings. Well, his. His legs were too long for mine. I had a hard time keeping him in stockings. He'd wear the feet out, and the knees, andÉbesides, they're expensive."
"I bet," the stranger knowinglyÑit seemedÑgrinned. "Then what? After the blowjob. He turned his attentions on you?"
"He would get on the bed with me, yeah. That was always the last thing, after all the preliminaries."
"What was?"
"Fucking me."
"While you were tied up, helpless. Along with your husband."
Fran glanced over me. At me, arms crossed and slowly simmering in my chair, in the rising heat. "Yes. And then we had variationsÉ"
"Like what?"
"WellÉhe might tie us both up on the bed, on our hands and knees, elbows and knees I guessÉand he'd spank or whip both of us. Or do both. He'd really whack Adam hard. I mean sometimes I worried about himÉ"
"But he was gentler with you."
"Not gentle butÉNothing like Adam."
The stranger finally addressed me. What had it been now, ten minutes of interrogation? "But you enjoyed it, right Adam? The whippings?"
"Up to a point," I tersely replied.
"I mean Adam would be sobbing at the end."
"Pleading?"
"No, sobbing. His ass would be red and sore for a week. And then it would time for our Dom to come over again. He used to soak in Epsom salts."
I could be wrong about this but Fran seemed to wipe a tear from her eye at this moment. Perhaps it was sweat though. The morning sun was now above the fronds, beating down. It was hot.
"Sometimes, afterwards, Adam would be there like sobbing, or whimpering I guess you'd sayÉwhile just inches away our Dom was fucking me. Pounding me."
"But he wasn't whimpering, or whatever, because your Dom was cuckolding him. He was whimpering becauseÑ"
"No. No, Adam loved to be cuckolded. He lived for it."
"Sounds like it. How many guys did you cuckold him with?"
Fran thought for a long minute. "UmÉwell, there were all our Doms. We tried about four of `emÉand then there were a couple other guysÉ"
"A couple?"
Fran smiled despite herself. "More than a couple, I guess. A few. Before and after all the Dom/sub stuff we got into. Then things, toward the end, got really crazy andÉWe split up. Went our separate ways for a whileÉ"
"Big surprise." Big obnoxious grin. "What else did your Dom do to you?"
"Well he might also tie us both up on the bed, on our hands and knees againÉbut this time take turns fucking us. Me then Adam thenÉBack and forth."
"Anal or vaginal?"
"With me, to start out, vaginal. Then he'd start fucking both of us in the ass. That's when he started going back and forth."
"Bareback or condom?"
"No. He refused to wear condoms. His only concession was to agree not to fuck me vaginally after he'd fucked meÑusÑanally."
"Did your husband like being fucked?"
"He loved it up the ass, yes. I used to do him with my dildo. Later on I bought a strap-on. That's when he got the urge to start dressing up in my underwear. Women's underwear anyway. I started buying him his own after a whileÉ"
The stranger addressed me again. "Is that true, Adam. Is that when you first got the urge?"
I was feelingÉmany things at the moment. Sullen for one. Sarcastic for another. Anarchistic even. This asshole wanted the truth? Fine then. I'll give him the fucking truth! "No, I think I first got that urge when I turned 13."
Fran looked over at me, sharply. "That's news to me!"
The stranger, meanwhile, was laughing so hard his muscles again flexed. Flan threw out to her right a swatting hand. Which I pulled away from as if a flaming match.
"All our time together and you never told me you used to crossdress as a kid?"
"It was a phase," I deadpanned.
The stranger's laughter, sincere or not I couldn't quite tell, trailed off and he said, "So there you two are, your first life together in your apartment in Brooklyn, andÑ"
"How did you know we had an apartment in Brooklyn?"
The stranger shrugged. Fran asked: "How does he know anything about us?"
The grin returned. "Because you just told me! You two, your bisexual Dom, your BDSM lifestyleÉ
"Holy Christ!" the intruder continued, unfolding his hands, opening his arms. "I wasn't expecting all this! Look what you've done to me? I've learned so much from you just now!"
Unimpeded now, the view, was the stranger's big lizard of a cock. Which while not erect, was engorged. Or should I say was in the process of swelling, of rising? Like a loaf of bread in the oven?
Which the midday heat was beginning to feel like, incidentally.
"I should've been taking notes!" he added.
"About what?" Fran asked.
"Technique! Ideas! Everything!" He leaned forward again, partly blocking the mouth-watering view. "Let me ask you this: Have you had a Dom since you've been here?"
I quickly answered, "We're not into that crazy stuff anymore."
"No?"
"We have the perfect life here."
The stranger looked straight up into the sky. "Someone once saidÉIf you're sweating it's not the perfect life."
Fran made like to fan her face. With a slender hand. "I've never felt it this hot before."
"Well, maybe the climate's changing."
The stranger rose and, cock bobbing, walked around the far side of Fran's chaise. He leaned over my wife until the head of his cock was just inches from her lips. Fran had to open her mouth as wide as she could. Without pause or protest or prompting she took him in.
"Fondle my balls," he said. And she obeyed. He pulled back.
"What about you, Fran? Would you like a Dom in your new life?"
Fran swallowedÑsaliva. She nodded. "Oh yes. Yes!"
"Would you like to be tied up and spanked today?"
"Oh yes," a quaver entering her voice.
"Would you like me to fuck you? In front of HIM?"
"Oh yes, fuck me! Fuck me! I need it so bad!"
"Paradise isn't all it's cracked up to be is it?"
"I hate this life!" I heard my wife say. I was beyond incredulous. Hadn't she been the one whoÑ
The man was looking over at me. "Hear that? You're a minority of one, Adam. And," he added, "you've got a hard-on in your swimsuit. I would call that, at the very least, a vote of nolo contendere. Zat what they call it?"
Fran leaned forward eager to suck him again but our Dom, our new Dom, our second-life Dom, had other plans. He told Fran to get up. To remove her bikini bottom and hand it to him. After she obeyed he tossed the skimpy thing to me. At me.
"Pick it up. Take yours off and put hers on. Hurry!"
I obeyed. I felt vaguely robotic. As I changed into Fran's bikini our Dom directed my wife down onto her chaise again. "Lean back," he told her, while himself sinking to his knees. If it seemed a submissive gesture it was a false one.
I watched, standing now, my own erection protruding sideways out the waist of Fran's bikini, as our Dom kissed my wife. Kissed her left shoulder, her neck, her ear, her cheekÉthe corner of her mouth. Fran looked, well, petrified. She did not offer him the full of her mouth nor did he yet seem to want it. He looked up at me.
"Come over here and get down."
I obeyed. I knelt.
"Get lower. Lower!"
I was down in the sand like a worm.
"Lower! Suck my cock while I make out with your wife. Suck it!" he repeated. "And don't forget my balls!
"Grovel!"