Episode 39: Not today... Maybe tomorrow!

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Next to us, the smoldering remnants of a few pieces of wood still burn, too damp to flame but dry enough to fill us with smoke. My eyes sting. The smoke doesn't seem to bother her. She helps herself to her piece of fish. Today we only caught one, and each of us has half. 

I'm not very hungry. My liver hurts from those overcooked eggs. Badly, but I suffer in silence.

"Sometimes I feel terribly old," I sigh, hand on my cursed liver.

"Old? Are you serious?" she asks sweetly.

"Yes, very serious. This regimen of eggs in the morning, afternoon, and evening is killing me. Why do you care? You can eat rocks. You're young, you're healthy, you have your whole life ahead of you. You'll live to be 99 and have dozens of grandchildren there, with you, in Germany. On cold evenings in Marburg, you'll gather all your grandchildren around the fireplace and tell them about your adventures from your distant youth. They'll listen with their mouths agape when you tell them about me."

"Especially when I tell them about 'I finished too quickly! Sorry!'."

"Don't push it, you're not funny anymore," I grumble.

"Ninety-nine years old? Grandchildren? I like the way you think," she says smiling, but what you're predicting won't happen.

"Why not? You have all the chances."

Eva spits out a sharp bone, analyzes it, and carefully places it in the pile next to her.

"After all the things that happened to us not long ago, I think you're too optimistic, meine Herr. It's very likely that I won't even make it to twenty-six. Who experiences so many horrors in such a short time... I don't think they have a chance to reach old age."

She resumes her fish, patiently managing to finish it. She looks at the other piece serenely and asks me:

"Are you going to eat that piece, old man?"

"No, I can't anymore."

"Fine, then pass it over here. I'm young and need calories. You know? Maybe I'll still make it to 99."

After she's done, she throws off her clothes and remains as her mother made her. She feels like mocking me again, I know, so I pretend not to notice.

"I'm going for a dip, old man. Are you coming?"

"I don't think so."

"I see. Your liver is bothering you. Bye!"

I know she won't venture too far. She has no idea how to swim.

A quarter of an hour later, I give in to her calls and toss my underwear onto the sand. Eva greets me by splashing me with foamy water.

"Shall I teach you how to swim, girl? Do you want to?"

"Only if you promise not to dunk me underwater."

Our swimming lesson lasts very little

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Our swimming lesson lasts very little. Eva is more in the mood for play than swimming.

I pretend to let her go, then I really let her go. She manages to get her head underwater. She takes a good gulp of water. I quickly pull her out, and she splutters furiously.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouts and grabs onto my neck, so I also get a mouthful of water.

A few minutes later, we're both exhausted. She's panting, and so am I.

The water isn't very deep. Eva clings to me like a vine, and she gently nudges my knee in some area under the water. I let her play the fool. I admit, I don't mind.

Maybe I'm exaggerating. I'm not as old as I think. Actually, it's my liver that's old, not me. And my lungs are old. But the rest is very young. 

Especially my mind.

The waves gently hit us, and the touches of her body provoke the most shameless erection possible. Clearly! I knew I was young.

I kiss her deeply. Eva lets herself be overwhelmed by my lips, pushes herself more and more into me, whispers in my ear, and wraps her arms around my neck.

I feel my desire growing stronger and stronger. I feel like putting her down there, in the water, and having her right away.

"Eva," I say a little hoarsely, "let's go out onto the beach, onto the sand."

"Why?" she laughs and looks me directly in the eye. "It's fine here. Don't you like it? Then she extends her hand to show me what I already know. He seems to like it too. He looks quite magnificent. The salty water suits him."

"Let's go to the shore," I plead hoarsely. "Don't you want to make love?"

"Love? Oh my, what big words you use! I don't know what to say. I was thinking of having sex with you, but you're making embarrassing proposals."

"Love, sex, gymnastics... call it what you want. I want you!"

Her eyes are very calm. She's lucid and calm:

"I don't think I'm in the mood now. Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. What's the rush, old man?"

"Oh, go to hell!" I mutter, clenching my teeth and not responding anymore, but I pull away from her and angrily walk to the shore.

"What's wrong? Are you upset? Are you sure you can't resist until tomorrow?"

Eva laughs like a maniac behind me. 

Lord, help me resist. I don't want to turn around and lay my hands on her.

I hate her!


A Man, a Girl, a Deserted Island - an Epic Love Hate SagaHikayelerin yaşadığı yer. Şimdi keşfedin