The weight of the stone for the new voyager's shrine felt solid in my hands today. A good weight. It made me think about other weights... the heavy, satisfying pressure of a lover pinning my wrists above my head, his body a solid warmth against mine. Not on soft sand, but here, against the rough-hewn wood of the canoe shed. The contrast of splinters at my back and the slick heat of his cock pushing into my tight cunt. The way a man groans when he's buried deep, when he forgets I'm a chief's daughter and just sees a woman whose pussy is gripping him like a fist... that's a sound that anchors me more than any stone. Makes me feel powerful in a way my title never could. Maybe that's the real treasure beyond the reef.