Forlorn Love
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Forlorn Point Love free porn video
Look at a map of the West Coast, and if you observe closely, you will see a narrow peninsular running out. It is about four kilometres in length and one kilometre wide. In fact, this peninsular is all but an island. At high tide, it is cut off from the mainland huddle of houses with their combined shop and post office and the rather shabby pub.
A strip of sand called locally ‘The Strand’ connects the island to the mainland at low tide, and it is this semi-isolation that perhaps inspired its name, Forlorn Point.
The peninsular, or as I shall now call it, the island, inclines up from The Strand and thrusting out into the ocean it rises until it terminates in high cliffs against which the ocean rollers come crashing in. The soil on the island is poor and only some coarse grass, bushes and sparse wind blasted trees survive.
Over the decades, there have been some attempts to settle on the island, none of which succeeded. Sheep and goats have been grazed on it, but now only a few feral goats remain.
Until recently there were two inhabitants of the island, Janice and Stuart Walker. There are the remains of three cottages, built long ago by optimistic would-be settlers. Two have fallen into ruins. The one that still retained some semblance of livability was taken over by Janice and Stuart, and after some work was done on the place, it had the appearance at least of being habitable, and although there was no electricity, bottled gas replaced the old kerosene lighting and cooking facilities.
The work was done partly by a professional builder, and partly by Janice. Stuart played no part because he was a wheelchair bound cripple, yet it had been he who had insisted on moving to Forlorn Point.
Eight months after they were married Stuart had been involved in an appalling road accident. Months in hospital were followed by depression that translated itself into bitter hatred. Stuart could think only of escaping from society, and he remembered visiting Forlorn Point as a child. Nothing would do but they should go and live there.
Janice was in despair. A trained nurse, she understood that Stuart would be wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. He would always need care, and going to the island would leave that care entirely up to her.
She battled to get Stuart to accept psychiatric help, to no avail. She thought of leaving him, but a tender conscience prevailed, and finally she wearily agreed that they should go to the island.
She was still a young woman, and there were no children and no hope of any, as Stuart was now quite incapable of sexual activity. Among the other causes of despair for Janice, this absence of sexual activity was yet another bitter blow for her.
If Stuart had wanted to choose a place most inconvenient for a wheel chair, he could hardly have done better than Forlorn Point. They included as part of the renovation work, some paving round the cottage, but beyond that the going was rough and Stuart could hardly manipulate his wheelchair unaided. Even with Janice’s help it was a struggle.
Once settled on Forlorn Point it became even more difficult for Janice to leave Stuart, since he was now more dependent on her than ever. Janice herself was depressed at the prospect of years on the island.
Relations between Janice and Stuart became increasingly acrimonious, as Janice now became the target of Stuart’s bitterness and sarcasm. It was almost as if she was to blame for the accident that had robbed him of his physical powers.
He taunted her about her sexual needs, ‘Like a good fuck, wouldn’t you? Why not go over to the pub and get one of the lad’s to screw you, you horny bitch. Or perhaps you prefer a bit of self-abuse? Rub your cunt in bed at night, do you?’
Janice understood that this abuse arose from Stuart’s despair at his own sexual impotence, but it was none the less hard to take, especially as there was truth in what Stuart said. Of course, she wanted a healthy sex life, and there was little likelihood of that living on the island, and even if she had wanted one of the men on the mainland, they were all married, and the community too small for anything to be hidden.
From the time they moved to Forlorn Point, Stuart had been island bound. Janice did get away occasionally to shop in the nearest town. She kept a car garaged on the mainland, and would time her trips to coincide with low tide. These trips were not drawn-out, because Stuart could not be left untended for long, and she must not be caught by a rising tide.
So two years dragged by with Janice growing ever more lonely and miserable, and Stuart more verbally violent. Everything requiring physical effort had to be done by Janice. She endevoured to make a vegetable garden in the poor soil, looked after the few chickens they had and mended what needed mending. It was a life of boredom and drudgery, with few visitors to break the monotony.
During the time of the Spring high tides, one unexpected visitor did arrive. The tides were being driven by gale force winds, and just before dark Janice was going round the cottage, the wind howling about her, making sure the shutters were secure. As she struggled with one shutter a voice behind her said, ‘Excuse me.’
Janice whirled round to be confronted by a tall, powerfully built man about forty years of age. He was wearing strong corduroy trousers, a sturdy raincoat and had a rucksack on his back. In his hand, he carried a small canvas bag.
Janice felt her heart thump, and she stammered out, ‘What do you want?’
‘I’m sorry if I startled you,’ the man said in a pleasant baritone voice, ‘but I wonder if you could help me? I’ve misjudged the tide and I won’t be able to get back to the mainland for hours. Could you give me somewhere to sleep?’
Janice realised that the Spring tide, driven by the gale, would have covered The Strand joining the island to the mainland sooner than normal. She felt a bit sorry for the man and said, ‘You’d better come in.’
The inside of the cottage, never very bright, was now almost dark as the evening light outside faded. Stuart sat in his wheel chair by the table leafing dismally through a magazine. He looked up as they entered, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
‘Who’s this?’ he snapped.
‘This is Mr.er…I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,’ said Janice as she lit the gaslight.
‘Ellis,’ replied the man, ‘Kent Ellis.’
‘I’m Janice Walker, and this is my husband, Stuart,’ and turning to Stuart she went on, ‘Mr. Ellis has been cut off from the mainland by the tide, and wonders if we could give him somewhere to sleep for the night.’
‘Bit bloody careless, aren’t you,’ snapped Stuart.
Kent gave a sheepish grin and said, ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
With the gaslight lit, Janice was able to observe their visitor more closely. His head seemed to almost touch the low ceiling of the cottage. His shoulders indicated a powerful physique, and his face showed signs of healthy outdoor living. He could not be called handsome, but he had a pleasant, cheerful face, with widely spaced dark brown eyes.
Kent was doing his own observing, and saw a dark haired, scowling figure crouching in his wheelchair. The venom of the man was almost palpable, and caused Kent to wonder what had happened to bring about such acerbity. Looking at Janice, he further wondered how two such people had got together.
In Janice he saw what people describe as, ‘A fine figure of a woman.’ She did not seem to him to be either beautiful or pretty, and he chose ‘handsome’ as the best description. She had a heart shaped face with strange grey eyes that seemed to have a look of tired entreaty about them. Her mouth was full lipped and looked as if it would make the sun shine when she smiled. He suspected she had not smiled for some time.
She was tall for a woman, being some five feet ten inches. Apart form this, the ‘fine figure’ description arose mainly from
her breasts.
In her teenage years, Janice had been very self-conscious about her breasts. They were large – one could almost say very large, and they were firm. At times she almost hated them and disliked the boys who tried to fondle them during after-school groping sessions on the way home.
No matter how she tried to hide or disguise them, her breasts seemed always to get in the way. They would brush against things and people and seemed always ready to slip out of bras and dress tops.
It had been Stuart who, before his accident, had taught her to see her breasts as things of beauty. He had delighted in them, and in their lovemaking, they had been a major focus of his love play with her. As he fondled, caressed and sucked them and she felt her nipples harden, to stand out like acorns, the true nature of their loveliness was brought home to her.
In those days, Janice would dress to emphasis her breasts just to please Stuart, and he had called them, ‘Your lovely breasts.’ Now, if in trying to assist him to move, or when putting him to bed, her breasts brushed against him, which they frequently did, he would snarl, ‘Keep those bloody great tits of yours out of my way.’ Refusing to cry in front of him, Janice would go to her room and weep with humiliation.
Looking at her now, and almost unavoidably attracted by her bosom, Kent felt a stirring in his loins that he instantly sought to repress.
‘I suppose you’d better sleep here,’ growled Stuart, ‘but it’ll have to be the couch or the floor, we’ve got no spare bedrooms.’ There were in fact two bedrooms, but as Janice and he slept apart, both were in use.
Janice cut in, ‘We do have a spare mattress that we can lay on the floor for you. It’ll be more comfortable than the couch.’
‘That’ll do very well,’ replied Kent. ‘After all, I could be sleeping rough out there in the gale, if you had refused to take me in.’
‘I’ll get some supper,’ said Janice. ‘You take your coat off and make yourself comfortable.’
Kent put down the canvas bag and removed his rucksack. As he did this Janice saw a geologist’s hammer thrust through a strap.
‘Are you a geologist?’ she asked.
‘Well, sort of, smiled Kent, ‘I’m actually a paleontologist. I study fossils and…’
Stuart cut in. ‘We’re not bloody ignoramuses. We know what a paleontologist does. We don’t need a lecture.’
‘Sorry,’ said Kent. ‘It’s just that a lot of people don’t know what…’
‘Well we do, old boy, so let’s leave it at that, shall we?’
‘Stuart!’ cried Janice, ‘Mr.Ellis is a guest.’
‘Is he?’ sneered Stuart. ‘I thought he was a silly bugger who couldn’t work out the tides.’
‘Perhaps I’d better go,’ said Kent, beginning to put on his raincoat.
‘No you damned well won’t,’ retorted Janice.
Kent was the first visitor they had had for months. She had been looking forward to spending an evening talking with him. For once, she was not going to let Stuart rule her.
You’ll be wanting some supper soon, Stuart, and then you’ll need my help to get to bed…’
This was said in such a tone as to leave Stuart in no doubt about her meaning. He was virtually totally dependent on her and any lack of co-operation on her part meant a very uncomfortable time for him.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered as an unenthusiastic apology, and fell silent.
Janice had heard of the interesting fossil finds on Forlorn Point, and especially at a spot called, ‘Outlaw’s Cove.’ During supper, as Stuart sat sulking, Janice questioned Kent about his reason for coming to Forlorn Point.
‘Well, it’s a personal thing at the moment. I’m on three weeks vacation, but can’t stop working.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘I read a paper written by some chap years ago about this place, and wanted to come and have a look myself. Officialdom has never shown any interest, so I thought I’d do it on my own. So I booked the one and only room in the pub, and started today. Made a bit of a mess of it, didn’t I?’ He laughed.
Stuart made as if to comment, but a glance from Janice made him think better of it.
Janice told him what she had heard about and seen at Outlaw’s Cove and Kent said he might go there the following day.
After supper, Stuart had to be assisted to bed by Janice. This was a fairly lengthy process, and when she returned to Kent, he was sitting browsing through some magazines that he had found.
‘Give me a hand to get the mattress in here, would you Mr.Ellis?’
‘Please, call me Kent,’ he replied.
‘Then you’d better call me Janice,’ she responded, and led the way into a small side room more or less of cupboard proportions, where the mattress was stored upright. They got it out and carried it to the living room, and Janice went off to get some sheets and blankets.
For about an hour they talked, mainly about Kent’s work, but also about how Janice and Stuart had come to live on the island.
Janice was cagey about saying too much concerning their reason for being there, and to head off any further questions about this, she asked, ‘Would you like a wash before bed? We do have a bath, but I’m afraid it’s in what we call ‘the scullery’ where we do all our washing and washing up. If you’d like to use it, you’re very welcome, but I must ask you to be sparing with the water. We rely entirely on water from our rainwater tanks.’
Kent thanked her and said that he would appreciate a bath, so she showed him where it was and supplied soap and towel.
Janice returned to the living room and began to clear up. She was quite elated at having had such a congenial companion for the evening, and gathering the things to be washed, she made for the scullery.
The scullery had no door to it and Janice, unthinking, walked straight in with her burden. Kent had just finished his bath and was drying himself. Janice came to a halt, and said ‘Sorry,’ turned and went out again, but not before she had seen the naked body of Kent, with wide shoulders and his well muscled torso tapering to narrow hips, and between his thighs she saw swinging his slack penis.
‘My God,’ she thought, ‘He’s a well endowed fellow. He could keep a woman happy with what he’s got there.’
When Kent came into the living room to go to bed, Janice apologised again for breaking in on him, and went off for her own bath.
When she had finished she put on her nightdress and proceeded to her bedroom, which meant passing through the living room. She intended to say goodnight to Kent, but he had gone to sleep.
Janice did not sleep well that night, as she kept remembering what she had seen in the scullery. When she did sleep, she dreamed of a faceless lover who kept almost entering her, but not quite.
In the morning, Janice was determined that if she could, she would have more of Kent’s company. As she went through the drill of getting Stuart up and preparing him for the day, she told him, ‘I’m going to ask Kent if he would like to stay here in the cottage for the rest of his vacation. It’s nearer to the places he wants to look at, and he won’t have to worry about the tides.
Stuart was not at all enamoured of this idea, and said so. ‘Good God, we came here to get away from people, and now you want them swarming all over the house.’
Janice was in no mood to be bullied or blackmailed by Stuart. ‘Firstly, Stuart,’ she began, ‘it was you who wanted to escape people, not me. I happen to like people especially those who don’t belittle and sneer at me. Secondly, Kent does not constitute a ‘swarm.’ I shall ask him if he would like to stay, and if he says yes, he shall stay. And if you do or say anything to spoil his time here, you and I will have a rather interesting discussion which I don’t think you’ll enjoy.’
Janice had never spoken up to him like this before. For a moment he was dumbfounded, and when he did find his voice, his only retort was yet another of his sneers.’
‘Hoping he’ll give you a good fuc
king, are you?’
Janice ignored this, and went to find Kent.
The storm had blown itself out overnight and the weather promised to be warm if not hot, but the sound of distance breakers booming against the cliffs could still be heard. That sound was rarely absent at Forlorn Point.
Janice passed through the living room, and noted that Kent had folded the sheets and blankets, and the mattress was nowhere in sight. She found Kent standing outside the cottage. Here the air was still, and he was gazing up along the peninsular.
‘I’d like to have a look at Outlaw’s Cove today, but I’ll make sure I get the tide right this time.’ He gave a little laugh.
‘I want to talk to you about that,’ said Janice. ‘How would you like to stay on here for your vacation? You wouldn’t have to worry about tides then.’
Kent hesitated. He had seen the effect his presence had had on Stuart, and did not want to exacerbate the obvious tensions between husband and wife. On the other hand, it would be convenient and, he tried not to admit to himself, it would be nice to come back from his day’s work to Janice.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘if it’s all right with both of you, I think I’d like to stay. I promise I’ll put the mattress away each day,’ he laughed, ‘and I can pay for my board and lodgings.’
Janice joined in his laughter and said, ‘We can discuss terms some other time. As long as you do put the mattress away, it will be fine.’
They went into the cottage for breakfast over which Janice and Kent discussed the little details of his stay, such as meal and bath times, and where in the shed Kent could keep any specimens he found. Stuart simply sat frowning.
Breakfast over, Kent announced he would go to the Cove, and would Janice give him directions?
Janice said she could do better than that. She would take him there. ‘It’s only about fifteen minutes walk. You won’t mind that, will you, Stuart?’
Stuart gave a grunt that was taken to mean it was all right.
‘What about food?’ asked Janice. ‘You’ll need some lunch if you’re going to be out all day.’
‘If it’s only fifteen minutes walk, I’d rather like to come back here for lunch, if that’s all right?’
Janice had no problem about that. The more she saw of this seemingly gentle man, the more she wanted to see of him.
Kent was equally smitten. He would normally have taken food with him and stayed out all day, but the thought of an extra hour with Janice was too enticing to miss.
Having settled Stuart to his desultory attempt to paint which, was one of the few activities he attempted, Janice set off with Kent for Outlaw’s Cove. As she had said, it took only about fifteen minutes to get there. As they walked they discussed Forlorn Point – its advantages and disadvantages, but avoided the questions they really wanted answers to.
Janice wanted to know if Kent had a woman in his life. Did he have any children? Where did he live?
Kent had equally personal questions he would like to have had answered. Why were Janice and Stuart really here? How did Stuart come to be in a wheelchair? How could Janice tolerate a man who treated her so insultingly?
I suppose these are questions we all have about others from time to time, but are too reticent to ask them.
Arriving at the Cove Janice watched Kent scramble confidently down the narrow track that led to the beach. She recalled how Stuart had once been like that – strong and active. She turned away from the Cove and the sight of Kent, and went back to her cheerless, bitter husband.
At lunchtime Kent appeared, carrying his canvas bag and announcing he had found some ‘interesting specimens.’ He then proceeded to tell Janice their names, which meant nothing to her, but any conversation with Kent she found engaging.
He departed for the Cove after lunch, and while the tide was still low, Janice decided she must do some shopping to get in some supplies for the extra mouth she now had to feed.
She made sure Stuart was comfortable, and left him making his umpteenth attempt to paint The Strand. On her return, she found Stuart asleep with yet another badly executed painting on the easel. She began preparations for the evening meal.
Miracle
- 14.06.2020
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