Message-ID: <6701eli$9712231404@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: losgud Subject: RP--On The Houseboat Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: see@iglou.com, end@iglou.com, note@iglou.com X-Nntp-Posting-User: [unauthenticated] Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <349FFC3E.5498@hotnomail.com> ========================= The following is total fiction. Any resemblance etc. is a product of your imagination. This work is meant as ADULT entertainment. If the laws where you sit say you're too young to read this, go away and turn yourself in to the thought police. Even thinking about sex is dirty and nasty and will warp your mind forever. Go watch a movie or play a game that ends with a body count in the high four figures. Death and destruction are good clean fun. ©1997 losgud. Personal use just fine. Archiving okay. Absolutely NO for-profit use permitted. Reposting without notice is frowned upon. Tampering with the text (rewriting) is illegal. Copyright violations will fall under the jurisdiction of my principality, where the punishment is to discourage repeat offenders. We cut your fucking hands off! ========================= m/F con hum 1st NOTE: Once again, hit the halfway point if you want to go straight to the party. This is not a sex story, this is a story that has sex. Remember: fiction is not fact, nor need it pretend to be. If your first time was this good, I don't want to hear about it! Enjoy! ON THE HOUSEBOAT Every July for as far back as I could remember my parents and a group of their friends had set aside an extended weekend to drive to a huge man-made lake down at the other side of the state, where they had the long-standing reservations of a large cottage and a houseboat. I'd been included once when I was seven and had had a blast even though there hadn't been any other kids to play with. These vacations, I came to understand, weren't meant to include the children. Mrs. Milner came _highly recommended_ by one of their sets of friends, so my parents never made that error in judgment again. Mrs. Milner became like my third grandmother. I saw her just once a year when she came to stay in July. She was great fun to be with, cooked all my favorite foods, and though she had her few hard-and-fast rules and was not one to be crossed I basically had free rein the four or five days my folks were gone. A bit of problem arose the summer I turned fifteen. Mrs. Milner had passed away the winter before. My parents began making noises about engaging Madame Crutcher. _NO WAY!!_ was my immediate response. She was the bane of my childhood. She made even the most evil baby- sitters I'd known angels by comparison. The woman would just as soon knock you against the wall as look at you. _Madame Crutcher_ was how she insisted on being addressed, by me _and_ my parents. She was two-hundred years old but kept her hair raven with bootblack, pulled back so severely I thought it should peel off her scalp. She was as strong as a bull, and twice as mean. I'd always secretly called her Old Crow Breath. The first third of my summer vacation was ruined by the tension and anticipation. Days then weeks crept by without a suitable replacement being found. I begged them to leave me by myself, have a neighbor check in on me, check me into Juvenile Hall, _anything_. "Just not Old Crow Breath!" I begged. "Old What What?" they asked in unison. I'd never breathed her secret name in public before. "Old Crow Breath, because that's exactly what she is. A big scary nasty black bird that eats dead things by the side of the road." They both roared. If anything, they liked her even less than I did. Imagine the feeling of being an adult, and still being intimidated by her. "I swear, if she sets foot in this house, I will not be here when you get back." I was deadly serious. And they knew it. "If nothing else, take me with you. Ask the others. I'm not really a kid anymore. I'll stay out of the way. I'll do exactly what I'm told. Go out for steak and lobster and leave me with a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. I won't complain about a thing. I'll sleep in the car! If I get thirsty, I'll boil up a little lake water. It'll be okay, everything'll be fine. No one will even know I'm there." I was desperate. They knew this as well. The first night they had the first big bash aboard the houseboat. I nearly instantly endeared myself to all the other grown ups. I became the resident Omega male so all the guys could feel great. For the women I was a cross between the perfectly well-mannered boy they wished they had, and the cute little houseboy they wished they could have. I was fetching beers left and right, and with a quick little coaching from Mrs. Ewing mixing up suitably stiff versions of any cocktail anyone cared to order. When it finally came time for something to eat to really be ready, I was already well at the tasks. So no drunk had to burn the boat down trying to light the charcoal. I made sure the meat was properly cooked when they'd all resigned themselves to the usual fare of crunchy black on the outside and squishy red inside. I managed the roasted corn and baked potatoes with alacrity. The tossed salad was problematic because I was never a salad eater and had no clue how to cut things up. Once again, Mrs. Ewing stepped over to lend me a discreet hand. Her hands on my hands. Standing behind me at the cutting board. The sweet hot tang of her alcohol breath on the back of my neck. The nearly insistent nudgings of her breasts against my shoulders. That was when I fully realized that my inclusion on the trip had been a dreadful mistake, that I was in for a long weekend more torturous than any I would have suffered at the hands Old Crow Breath. I knew perfectly well that Mrs. Ewing was just a little unsteady with drink, and that she was simply leaning in with full attention to showing me how to cut perfect radish flowers. That wasn't the problem. The problem wasn't behind, the problem was in front of me. Mrs. Ewing was old enough to be my mother, though in fact she was quite a few years younger. She was old enough to be my mother, but her youngest child was half a dozen years older than me. Doing the math confused me. The best I could figure was that she'd had her oldest child when she was older than me but younger than her youngest. None of that really mattered. All that mattered to me was that I thought she was the most beautiful woman in all the world. And that most of my primary erotic fantasies revolved around her. I mean, it seemed as if my cock needed no reason to instantly spring erect, declaring _yes sir, here I am sir, ready for action sir_. I could be dozing off in Algebra class when _whoa, wake up, get those books in your lap_. In private I would sometimes think of a few girls I knew from class, but only in the most desultory manner. It's not as if any of them ever even spoke to me. I was around Mrs. Ewing fairly often, and she always stopped to address some smiling words my way. She had such a pretty face and she really was about the sweetest person I'd ever met. Once I hit puberty I could do little but stammer in front of her. If she was facing me, I had to stare at her face to avoid the fact that she had the most incredible _breasts_. She could be wearing chain mail and still they'd just be the armor behind my wet dreams. Mostly, of course, she took to tops that screamed _cleavage!_ Turned around, well, her ass was the picture in the dictionary illustrating the meaning of the word _luscious_. It was sort of better that her husband wasn't on board, but in fact that made it worse. The dumb prick had lighted off with his floozy secretary a year before. The divorce had devastated Mrs. Ewing. I'd always clung to the secret opinion that it was all for the best. She'd obviously married the stupidest man in America. The weekend would make me a wreck. I'd forgotten that Mrs. Ewing would be there. There was no way I could walk around in my swimsuit when she was around in hers. To make matters worse, I'd miscalculated the sleeping arrangements. I knew that my parents always slept on the boat, loving the rocking lull of the water, which left the third berth for me. It wasn't until the opening party broke up and the three other couples climbed into the motorboat--towed to the lake by one of them-- that I understood that the cabin held three single beds, that my bed was actually Mrs. Ewing's, and that I was to sleep on the cushioned bench in the galley. I of course had promised not to complain, and how could I possibly explain that my complaint had nothing to do with the discomfort of my bed? Generally a bed of nails couldn't keep me awake. But the plushest feather mattress couldn't lull me to sleep when the woman of my waking dreams lay nearly naked on a narrow bed barely six feet away. For a bunch of hungovered adults, they were all up early, even the launch out from the pier. I gathered my bedding and left them to make an inedible mess of breakfast as I crawled off to find an empty bunk. In my sleepy stupor I jumped into the closest one, which was of course Mrs. Ewing's. The warmth was gone, but god could I still smell her! I drifted off to pleasant dreams, interrupted by shouts and the clatter of cookware, people going in and out of the lavatory across the aisle. My mother leaned in to whisper what I remembered from the previous night's discussions: they were all planning to hop in the big motorboat to the far end of the lake. Replenish the booze, have a late lunch, ski and all sorts of stuff. I mumbled that was fine with me, turning back to sleep. As I sunk down deep I swear I heard Mrs. Ewing mention in passing, "Oh look! How sweet, all bundled up asleep. Isn't he the original cutie." I woke back up soon after. I had my plans for the day. I feasted on the leftover breakfasts, then put on my cutoffs, grabbing a soda and a book before heading for the back of the houseboat, where a little ladder let up onto the roof. I'd go up there, scan around, then clamber back down and beat off like crazy. Then go back up and relax awhile, reading and sunning and sipping, keeping an eye on the water until it was time for me to go back inside to beat off again. I knew I'd need both hands free to hoist myself up. Before I got to the top of the ladder I tossed my book up on the roof. _Slam_. Then I stretched and set my can up there. _Thunk_. When I got to the top I nearly fell of the ladder in surprise. The pair of legs were foreshortened into stumps, ending in the twin globes of a delicious looking rump. The tightly stretched band of bright orange fabric told me it was Mrs. Ewing, but I really didn't need the hint. I stood there on the ladder hypnotized. She was lying on her stomach, and from that angle I could just see between her thighs all the way up to the thin strip of material hiding the treasure of so many countless fantasies. "Hi Jimmy, come on up and join me. Fantastic view!" I was scowling and frowning and blushing, not that she was turned to see. "Hi, Mrs. Ewing," I mumbled a grumble. "I'm _sorry_." I had no idea what she was talking about. "What?" "You're a young man now, and your name is James. My mistake, and I'll never repeat it." She curled onto her side to look at me. I could see two things. I couldn't see her eyes, because she was wearing sunglasses. And the way she was holding the cups of her top I knew she'd undone the catch in the back. What truly amazed me was how gracefully she'd corrected her faux pas, without adding any air of condescension. And how did she know? I hadn't even told my parents about that personal change. I climbed up "Forgive me?" she asked in a teasing little voice. "Oh sure, Mrs. Ewing." "Now it's _your_ turn to say you're sorry!" she scolded. "We're both adults, and my name is Marilyn! Got it?" "Ye-e-es. I'm sorry, M-m-marilyn." _I was speaking the holy name!_ "That's better," she replied primly. "Okay. Um, I didn't mean to intrude. I was just coming up here to read a little. I didn't know you were up here." I backed up to the ladder. "Oh James!" she cried softly. "Sweetheart, no need to be so shy around me. I don't bite. Well, not most of the time," she grinned. "Remember, I invited you to join me. I'd _love_ your company. Why, you're my absolute favorite young man in all the world. Besides, you're just the man I need. Here," she nodded at the bottle, "be a love and do my back before I turn into a pork rind." Marilyn turned away leaving me to the decision. I took a deep breath, then retrieved the lotion. I knelt beside her and started working it across her back. Feeling stupidly silent, I stuttered into conversation, "I thought, you see, everyone else, and, I didn't know." She gave a little laugh. "Oh, racing off for more fun. I tell you James, I had more than my share of fun last night. You mix a mean drink." I was aghast! "Are you . . . sick? Is there anything I can do to help." She tittered again. "Well, the first hour things were a little iffy, but I'm fine now. Hale and hearty, but not quite raring for more. Just keep on doing what you're doing. It feels _divine_. Go ahead and get the backs of my legs and arms too if you will." As if I wouldn't! Doing her arms kept me close to where I was on her upper back. God, I could see the entire side of one of her breasts! As I spread the lotion over the curve of her ribs I could actually feel the first softness of their swelling. I had to hop over her to get to the other arm. Then I worked down towards her hips. The bottom of her suit was low cut. I knew not to dare sliding under the fabric, contenting myself by running my fingers along the elastic edge. Then Marilyn moved her hands to the back of the waistband and started pushing them even lower. I was having a heart attack! She stopped after just an inch, calling back, "Can you see the tan line yet? These darn things are always riding up. Make sure you cover to it." I didn't think to fib. I couldn't think of anything. I was mesmerized by that line where her skin turned from amber to alabaster. And the first half-inch hint of the declivity between her cheeks. I finally managed to remind myself that I was supposed to be doing something, though not the something that I wanted to be doing. To do her legs I decided I'd better start down at her feet, to get as far away from the sexiest part of her body and give myself some time to calm down. From the knees on down I decided it made more sense not to differentiate between front and back. I sat back on my heels, bent her knee, and rested her shin and foot in the crevasse between my thighs. I'd barely begun when Marilyn began rotating her ankle around and around while curling her toes in and out. Even the leg I wasn't working on was lifted a little, repeating the same motions. I was struck dumb by the intense eroticism of the movements. I felt as if I was watching her having sex. When she stretched her foot out it nearly touched my crotch! "O-oh James, you have talented hands. I don't want to keep you from your book, but as long as your hands are all oily anywhere, would you terribly mind giving me a little massage? Work my legs than come back up to my back? I don't want to complain about my bed since you slept on flotation cushions, but my muscles are a little stiff and sore from the night." Would I mind?! "Sure, Marilyn." What a conversational wizard I was! I couldn't really reach all of her calf from where I was, so I moved to the side. That made it easy to turn and work on the other lower leg. It wasn't until I advanced to the thighs that I realized exactly what my position was. I was working up her thighs, kneeling _between_ her thighs. And she kept spreading her thighs! "I understand you almost got stuck with the wicked witch of the west. That woman is so-o evil. Somebody really should burn her at the stake! I'm glad you didn't have to run away from home. Much nicer that you could run away with us. Isn't this wonderful? Enough to make a common woman such as myself feel like a queen. Here I lay on the roof of my yacht in the gorgeous sun, with a handsome young man to attend to my every desire." She gave a little laugh, "Yes indeed, heaven on earth." The globes of her ass jiggled as she giggled. I could scarcely concentrate on what Marilyn was saying. I knew that underneath all the lovely padding the buttocks were a pair of large muscles. but I didn't dare start rubbing there. I went up to the elastic of the legs, my fingers just hinting at ducking under to the tan line, but when it came time to work the sides of her thighs I didn't know quite what to do. On the inside the edge of the suit went way up _there!_ And there, the thin orange strip seemed puffier than before, there seemed to be a slightly tangy aroma that wasn't cocoa butter, things that I'd heard of in the vaguest of terms. All of reality was blurring with the wildness of my imagination, and I couldn't truthfully say what was going on. I made bold and brave, touching the tips of my thumbs together and making calipers of my hands, grasping around her thighs at the circle of elastic. I worked my way quickly down, but not before I thought I felt a small twitching under the silky smooth skin of her uppermost inner thigh. I made sure to work her thighs all the way around. There wouldn't really be any muscles on the front of her torso to massage, and I couldn't chance her turning over for me to finish her legs. Luckily I was wearing cutoffs instead of my suit, but with my original plans in mind I'd thought it a bother to put on underwear. I could reach her lower back from where I was, but any further my erection would be bumping against her butt. I started to get up and move to one side when Marilyn corrected me, "No, darling. You can't do a proper job at that angle. Just straddle me. It's okay, we're all adults around here." I actually wound up just sort of sitting on her ass. I couldn't believe it! I went to work on her back with a passion. I even dared to rub along the sides of her breasts, but in a purely professional fashion. "Oh-h-h, god, James, I am so glad you are here for me right now. Pardon me for being so greedy and selfish--I know you'd rather be home spending time with your girlfriend--but this is absolutely marvelous!" My girlfriend? What girlfriend? "Oh, well, that's okay, this is great. I mean, I don't really have a girlfriend or anything anyway." "No?" "No, well, no. I mean, there's no girls, I mean, girls, I mean, no girls, like, girls don't seem to know I'm alive or anything. I mean, girls, um, they don't talk to me or anything, I mean, girls are great, but I mean, like, they don't even look at me." And with my grand social skills, no wonder. Puberty had struck me as just another one of life's cruel jokes. After several years of adjusting to my sexuality I'd come to the understanding that despite the best intentions of my fantasy life, in real life I was doomed to die a virgin. "No girlfriend, hmm. Well, don't despair. I wouldn't worry about it too much. You just need to work at overcoming your shyness. It's an endearing quality, and it won't ever truly leave you, but you can't let yourself become paralyzed by it. I bet all the girls are just panting after you. You just don't know it yet. And once you do, _lucky girls!_" Marilyn laughed. I finished off her shoulders, trailing down her arms. "Oh James, _thank you_, thank you oh so very much. That was totally delicious. Now if I could beg of you one last favor, down in that midget fridge there's a pitcher of iced tea," she prattled on as she rolled over underneath me. My heart stopped! I tried to scuttle backwards out of view but there was no time. There was no way for me to escape. There was nowhere for me to hide. Marilyn was leaning up on her elbows, holding her top with her hands. Her line of vision was directly at my crotch. Then she looked up at my face. She removed her sunglasses with one hand, resting entirely on that elbow as her other arm crossed over her chest to keep the top secured. I was mortified! Pinned to my place with petrification. Slowly her mouth came to life. "Oh my. Did I do that to you?" I couldn't move much less answer. Much of the blood in my body had rushed to my head, though none of it was in my brain. What remained had the front of my pants visibly pulsating. "Well, I suppose I should feel flattered, but then I know at your age even an ugly old lady like myself can be arousing." "You're not old!" I fairly shouted, stammering before I could stop myself, "a-a-and I think y-y-you're the m-m-most beautiful w-w-woman in the world." Exactly then some huge flying bug buzzed around her head. She instinctually shooed it away with her free hand, which left the orange twist of cloth to tumble down to the bottom of her ribcage. Marilyn's breasts were staring at me and I was staring right back, my mouth dropped wide open. She made a move as to cover herself up, but then stopped. She stopped and just studied me. She stopped and time stopped. I could see that Marilyn was thinking, thinking, thinking. I was thinking too. I was thinking how without meaning to I'd just ruined the vacation. I was thinking how I'd broken every vital promise I'd made to my parents. My parents! I was thinking how I'd brought permanent disgrace to my family name. I was thinking how they'd have to pack me into a cage like the nasty animal I was and cart me back home the minute they got back to the boat. I was thinking how they'd be so embarrassed they'd have to take off to Europe for six months to forget. I was thinking how they'd sign over my guardianship to Madame Crutcher! Marilyn started speaking in a thoughtful tone, as though to someone else. I darted my glance behind, convinced that someone had boarded the boat and was sneaking up the ladder. "I've been teasing you, haven't I? I _have_ been teasing you. Have I been teasing you? I know I have. I'm sorry, James. That wasn't very nice of me. Old habits die hard. I was just having such a splendid time up here with you. I guess I got a little carried away. Please accept my most sincere apologies, James. I think I've learned a little lesson today." I replied by just sort of blinking back at her. Marilyn wasn't mad at me? It didn't sound like she was going to tell on me. _She_ was apologizing to _me_? "I'm, I'm sorry too, Marilyn. Please accept my apologies as well." "Oh but James!" she replied most warmly, "you've done absolutely nothing wrong. Don't you see? You have nothing to be sorry for. You're hungry so your stomach grumbles--is that any moral flaw?" "Well, yea, but in polite company . . . " I tossed off. "You _are_ very polite, and you're the _best_ of company. At any rate, as I said, I think I've learned my lesson." Marilyn bowed her head, sounding so chastised. Now we were both staring at her breasts! "And that lesson is," she said brightly, lifting her head and stopping to smile while appraising my gaze. "That one mustn't start what one isn't prepared to finish," she chirped. "I know what we can do now. As long as I'm all nice and slippery," she reached for the front of my shorts and quickly undid the buttons. My erection sprang into her hands, which eagerly seized it. "Oh my goodness," Marilyn looked up at me, her eyes big and round and sparkling. "_Nice_ cock, James! It's even prettier than the rest of you. The one part of you that's _all grown up_!" "What do you mean? I mean, it's pretty small, isn't it?" I'd always been very shower shy in gym, and I'd never regarded masturbation as a team sport. My only real exposure to pornography had been the borrow of a collection of dirty stories, in which all the men were invariably compared to bulls and horses and mules. I knew there was some hyperbole involved, but even so I was pretty sure that I personally fell into the classification scheme somewhere among the lesser rodents. Marilyn gave a long low whistle that turned into a wolfish one. "James, you have _nothing_ to worry about. Consider yourself exactly the opposite. I promise you, once the girls get a look at this, you'll be beating them off with a stick. Take it from me, the voice of experience. I'm _quite_ impressed. Now, come here." She leaned back, keeping a firm grip, pulling me along. When she was flat on her back, she nestled my cock between her breasts, leaving it there to start squeezing them together. "How does that feel?" "Just incredible!" I groaned. "_Just_ incredible?" Marilyn teased. "_Totally_ so," I closed my eyes. "I bet you know what to do now." Well, does a dog know how to hump a leg? I was immersed in world of new sensations. Many of them weren't even sexual. I felt, for the first time in my life, completely relaxed, with myself and the world around me. Deep inside me I felt the first spark of self-confidence. "You can bet I know exactly what to do. Stay perfectly still, or else I'll explode right now!" Marilyn giggled. "You can touch, too." She took my hands in hers and placed them where hers had been, keeping hers on top of mine, helping me to squeeze her breasts as I slowly slid my cock back and forth in between. Then she moved my hands around, leaving them there while she resumed pushing her breasts together. "You never did rub my front," she scolded. "Mmm, nipples are very sensitive but they give a woman so much pleasure. Always remember, gentle is best. Feel them getting hard? Yessss," she crooned with half-closed eyes, "mmmmm, just like _that_. Do you know what this is called?" opening her eyes brightly again. I shook my head. "This is tit-fucking. Isn't that deliciously dirty to say? Think about that. You're fucking my tits. You're tit-fucking me. Here I am lying back on the top of a houseboat getting tit-fucked by a gorgeous young man with a great big cock. I _am_ queen-for-the-day. Do you like this? Or is that a silly question?" "Exactly what you said earlier. Heaven-on-earth. It's like in church how they're always talking about the raptures waiting up in heaven. I always thought they were referring to esoteric pleasures way up there," I cast my gaze to the sky. I returned my eyes glowering to hers. "I had no idea the minister was talking about right up here, on the roof of a houseboat, tit-fucking the super sexy woman of my dreams." "Do you really mean that? Do you really dream of me? Do you really think I'm sexy?" "Well, yes, yes, yes, I do think of you, you know, when, well . . . " "You think of me?" she continued for me at a rasping pant, "really? when you get all hot and horny you think of me? or when you think of me you get all worked up, you think of me and it makes you so hard, thinking of me you just have to pull out this big beautiful cock of yours, thinking of me drives you so wild you have to whip it out and masturbate like crazy? Yea? Really? Uh huh?" Second big blush of the day! "It's okay James, it's wonderful, it's beautiful, it's perfectly natural. Everyone has their fantasies, and everybody masturbates! As a matter of fact . . . oh hush your mouth Marilyn. Quit babbling. I need a gag. Hmm, that gives me a _good_ idea. If you think this is nice, how about _this_?" Marilyn pushed me away and slithered out from under me, rising up her hands still on my chest, balancing against me then pushing me down on my back. She pulled one leg out of my shorts then grabbed my cock, giving it a lingering loving look before bending down, slathering her tongue all around and up and down, slurping, lapping, licking and flicking. Just when I thought I'd felt everything there was to feel, she opened wide and sank her mouth all the way down over my cock. The circle of her lips tightened as she slid her mouth up and down, her cheeks going concave as she sucked and sucked, her tongue making such motions it felt as if she had a mouthful of them. "Oh Marilyn, oh Marilyn, oh Marilyn," I whimpered out my warning, which just made her more frenetic in her movements. I felt a finger slowly stroking forward from my anus to where the rest of the hand held my balls in a gently clenching cradle. I just died! I exploded with an intensity I'd never known before. The insanity of the pleasure of the first spurt was equal to every orgasm I'd ever had combined. And the sensations just kept coming and coming. Marilyn's head was bobbing at a furious pace while she alternated between the sounds of moaning and gulping. When at last I was finally finished, she slid her lips from me and into a broad smile. I noticed drops of sperm at the corners of her mouth. She noticed me noticing and darted her tongue out to catch them, giving a shiver of pleasure that sent her breasts swaying. She bent back down and gave my shrinking cock a thorough tongue bath, then crawled up to nestle in my arms. "So-o good," she exclaimed, "I really _really_ enjoyed that." I gasped, "You think you enjoyed that!" "My pleasure, pleasuring you," she whispered leaning her lips in to mine. My first kiss! And what a kiss! I didn't really know how to kiss, but I was learning fast. She was kissing me as though she never intended to stop kissing me. And at the same time Marilyn was almost imperceptibly hunching her crotch against the leg of mine held between hers. My hands on her back began rubbing slow circles, circles that lengthened in to ovals, dipping lower and lower. The upper limits of my motions moved slowly down her back as well. I paused for a breath when my fingertips touched the waistband. I moved on over her bottom, then reconsidered, drawing my hands up only to slip them back under the fabric. Flesh against flesh, my hands were squeezing the globes of Marilyn's wonderful ass, my forefingers trailing down into the separation. Her breath caught and started coming in deeper gasps, but we didn't break the kiss. Instead she stared into my eyes and began thrusting her hips with a greater urgency. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that she'd bent a leg back at the knee, her foot up in the air waving like a flag in a gentle breeze. She twirled her ankle in lazy languorous circles while her toes curled and unfurled in a sensuous display. Marilyn knew what I was looking at and broke the kiss for a smile. She rose up on her elbows. "You didn't know that before, did you? When you see a woman's foot writhing like that you can be certain of one thing. She has something very much on her mind. In her mind she may not know what she wants to do about it. But her body knows exactly what it wants. It's a very good moment for a man to be at his most persuasive." She rose fully off me, then reached for my hand. "Come on, let's go below. I have something I want to show you." Marilyn wrapped her top in her beach towel and dropped it to the deck while I pulled my shorts back up. We left all our other stuff right where it was. When I joined her by the ladder she gave me a jaunty look. "Your choice: which view do you prefer for the descent? The fore or aft?" "Not to slight the fore," I lightly plucked her nipples, "but I think I'll chose the aft." "Thought you might," she grinned, "in which case," she gestured to the ladder, "_aft_er you." I stepped down several rungs then stopped, watching as the twin orange-clad delights lowered down towards my face. When they hovered within reach I showered them with kisses, then, balancing forward on my feet, I grasped her hips and gave a little nip to each side. "_Oooh!_" she squealed, "so you sometimes do bite, too!" We climbed the rest of the way down pressed together. At the bottom I stopped us again, tight against her, running my hands up from her tummy to massage her breasts while I nibbled at the back of her neck. "Oh James," she moaned, "let's get inside." I released her and she bent to fetch her towel. My fingers rippled across her rump, she darted a look back with jewels in her eyes, and then I followed her into the cabin. When we arrived at her berth Marilyn circled around behind me. "My travel bag is under the bed. Would you pull it out for me, please." I got down on my knees to get it, and she sank down with me. Her hands pinched my ass, reached between my legs to cup my privates, then circled around my waist. When I stood up with her bag my shorts didn't, sinking to my ankles, all the front buttons undone. Marilyn took the bag and unzipped it, reaching inside. "Remember what I started to say up there? When I was babbling about fantasies and . . . and masturbation?" She pulled out a pair of rumpled lace panties and shoved them against my nose. "Smell? What do you think you smell? These are the panties I wore to bed last night. You know you're smelling my pussy, don't you? They're still damp, aren't they? This morning they were soaking wet. I couldn't help myself. When I went to bed I was so horny I just had to masturbate. I made myself come like crazy in these panties. It wasn't easy. I had to be so quiet. Usually I'm very noisy. Think about it. Last night while you were drifting off to sleep I was lying here shoving my fingers up my cunt. And then all night long I kept having these intensely erotic dreams. Girls have wet dreams too. I had two or three last night. No wonder these panties are still so damp. God, I love to masturbate. Would you like to watch me play with myself? Right now?" My head nodded, slowly, on its own accord. Marilyn clambered into the bed, putting a pillow behind her back as she sat against the headboard. She put her hands to her waist. In a flash her legs went straight up in the air, then down again. Marilyn sat there as before, but now she was dangling a small form of orange fabric from her index finger. She tossed the bottoms at my face. "Smell those," she commanded. They were like her panties, except much stronger. She put her hands to the insides of her thighs, then spread her legs wide. And there was an honest-to-god cunt staring me in the face! "Do you like what you see?" her hands trailed down. "These are my labia. See how puffy and swollen they are? Usually they're not like that. This means I'm incredibly excited." She slid a finger inside herself. "This is my vagina. Inside is heaven-on-earth for a penis. See all the wetness? That's the lubrication--pussy juice--an expression of friendliness, because there's nothing a woman's cunt likes better than a big hard cock sliding in and out of it. And up here, that's my clitoris. It's even more sensitive than my nipples. Which means it delivers about a thousand times the pleasure. See how I'm pumping my fingers in and out while this other finger rubs my clit? That means I'm going to be coming like crazy real soon. I wonder why I'm so hot? It wouldn't be your fault, James, would it? Watching you watching me? Thinking about last night? How I lay here making myself come while thinking of you while you were laying barely six feet away and thinking how you were so close and yet so far? Wondering what would happen if only you knew how much I wanted you, knowing how much you wanted me. I mean, what I mean, I mean what I mean is, what I mean, meaning what I mean is what I mean and OH MY FUCKING GOD, James! James! OH GO-O-O- OD, fucking fucking, OH JAMES! watch me OH OH O-O-O-HHHHH fucking CO-O-O-MMMMEEEE!" I waited, wordlessly, with bated breath. Once Marilyn had started calming down I bent forward, spreading her quivering clenched thighs. I lifted one of her hands away, holding it with my thumb in the palm, fingers caressing the back, lifting it to my face, my eyes fixed on hers while I slowly, one by one, sucked her fingers clean. Marilyn stroked my face while I worked on the other hand. When I'd finished, she just cradled my face, gazing down at me. Her hands moved up into my hair as I lowered my head down to her cunt. "Yesss, oh god! yessssssssssss. Eat me, James, suck my cunt, lick my hot pussy, drive me wild!" I hesitated, savoring her scent, unsure of what to do. I figured I'd figure it out pretty quickly, but I wanted to keep the initial bumbling to a minimum. So many conflicting verbs! Eat, suck, lick. _Drive?_ And do what where? Marilyn must have sensed my dilemma. She gently crooned, "Do what ever you want, baby. It's your pussy to play with. Just relax and enjoy. Whatever you want to do will feel _wonderful_ to me. Just maybe give my clit a few minutes to calm down. The rest of me is more than ready for you. _Oh James_," she gushed, "make me come all over your face!" Her aroma had the synapses in my brain firing like the Fourth of July. Having had her fingers in my mouth had put the lie to rest about how a woman tastes. I cautiously licked the moisture from her puffy lips. Marilyn's cunt tasted the way it smelled, a combination designed by nature to render any man blind to all but one primary purpose. I thought of how she'd used her tongue and lips and mouth on me. I thought of the ways and places in which she'd fingered herself. I thought of how the lightest touches were often the most erotic, and how once they'd accumulated to a level of breathtaking intensity just a few brusquer gestures could make the entire universe explode. I thought all of these things as my tongue circled a perimeter around her mons, slowly spiraling inward. When I finally probed the tip between her lips, Marilyn was wetter than ever. I realized that I did have quite the head start. She was already so aroused, I could likely simply lightly blow on her cunt and drive her nuts. I did just that, and it did just that. Her fingers went dancing across my scalp, yanking at my hair. I nibbled her lips with mine, then ran my tongue up and down the length of her slit. When she would groan a little _yes!_ I knew I was doing something right. Nothing seemed to elicit a negative response. I parted her lips with my fingers and stuck my tongue as deeply inside as I could. She grabbed the back of her head and shoved my mouth firmly against her cunt, forcing me even further. Snaking it in and out, I made my tongue thick and narrow, then flat and wide. I finally understood Marilyn's remarks after she'd sucked me off. What I was experiencing was more than the pleasure of giving pleasure. Sucking her off was giving me incredibly pleasure. My cock was throbbing, well on the way to another erection. She pressed me even harder, my nose bumping against her flesh. A wiggle of her hips and she shuddered. I knew exactly what she wanted. I shifted my head slightly, bringing my tongue up to where my nose had been, finding the hard little knob. I traced tiny circles around her clit, then gave it several flicks, the lightest brushings, dancing the very tip of my tongue on its very tip. I lapped at it broadly several times, then resumed the gentle rubs, tickling it again, slow long languorous strokes followed by a flurry of quick flits. Marilyn was squirming and squealing, gasping and groaning, her fingers like iron bars pressing into my temples. I pursed my lips around her clit and lashed at it with my tongue, reaching under to grab the cheeks of her ass, squeezing them tight as I sucked on her clit. I could feel muscles around me start to quake and quaver. She clasped her hands roughly on the back of my head as she started to climax, her mouth opened in a wide silent oval. I couldn't hear her cries very well because right as she found her voice her thighs clamped tight against my ears. True to her words, she came all over my face. Her juices flooded my chin, trickling down my throat. The second her legs relaxed their grip just the slightest, I nodded down to lap up all I could. All her limbs grew limper and limper until she lay there like a puddle of soft flesh. I was content to spend the rest of the day giving her sex quiet little kisses and gentle lazy licks. But then I felt several small muscles in her groin start to clutch, signaling a return to tension. I was just as content to spend the rest of the day giving her sex all the attention it might desire. Instead, Marilyn hooked her hands under my arms, pulling me up on top of her for a long sensuous cuddle, her lips in a series of open kisses all over my face, her tongue licking the wetness from my skin while giving it a new sheen. "I love tasting myself on you. I love thinking about what you do to me. That was simply . . . _amazing_." Her eyes took on a serious squint. "Are you sure you've never done that before? Because I've sure never had that done to me like that before." "No," I blushed back, "I, uh, I just thought of things, things you said, you know, and things you did. I guess it was beginner's luck." "Well, if you're that lucky in the beginning . . . hmmm?" Marilyn had her hands held over my back, a few fingers dropped down drawing invisible patterns on my skin. She was tracing maps of brand new worlds. Uncharted, unvisited, and unknown. We would be the brave explorers. "And I doubt," I blurted out, "I doubt that anyone else could have inspired me so much." "I would very much like," Marilyn blinked, almost in tears, "to continue being the source of your inspiration for a long, long time." The level of emotional tension had soared so high I was dizzy, dizzy and scared. Marilyn broke it with a wry little smile. "I can feel how _inspired_ you are right now. Riddle riddle ree," she sang softly, "I feel something you can't see." She sent a hand on a descriptive journey, "And it's _so_ big, and _so_ hard, and _so_ beautiful, and I want it inside me _so much_." She guided me to the font of her wetness, holding me there until the head of my cock had safely slipped inside. "Deep, deeper, deepest," she coaxed me, "fill me up completely." I slid in to the hilt. "James?" she asked. "Yes?" "I have but one request. I want you to fuck me, screw me, bang me, ball me, hump me, ride me . . . whatever you want to do to me. My pussy is here for _your_ pleasure. It feels _so-o_ good to have you inside of me. I want it, I need it, and I love it. But, just so you don't worry about it, I really never get off this way. So don't worry. I want this for _you_. I mean, I want this for me," she giggled, "and I'll enjoy every second of it, just, you know, don't worry about me. Okay?" "Okay," I nibbled the tip of her nose. Marilyn locked her legs around my waist. "So, give me all you've got, you big hot stud!" Her cunt was exactly as she'd described it. Heaven-on-earth for any cock. Marilyn lay back with a big smile, rocking me back and forth, her vagina milking me with muscles I'd never suspected existed. What I thought was, _hey, her clitoris is a bit up there, out of the line of action_. I shifted a little ways upwards, sort of riding up on her. It felt slightly different, but my cock was still having a good time. Marilyn gave me a puzzled look, but then her eyes went big and round. Her legs dropped and clenched tighter together, forcing me up further. Her hands went to my ass, gripping it like a steering wheel. Marilyn was definitely the driver now. It was hard to decide which of us was more surprised when her orgasm hit. She wafted away on the retreating waves, but eventually the tide turned and she came back stronger, more determined than ever. "Go James, _go_. Do me baby, _do me!_ God, you're going to make me come again. You and your big cock, _god!_ Ohhhh, darling, ohhhhh sweet James, _come with me!_" Marilyn twisted her hands through the labyrinth of our legs, one cupping my balls from underneath while a finger of the other tickled my anus, gently probing. This seemed terribly one-sided to me. I twisted slightly, inserting a finger up inside her along with my cock. Marilyn got a big smile that turned down to a whimper of disappointment when I pulled it out. I moved my hand around and then, without so much as an introduction, stuck the slickened finger up her ass. She gave a great groan, squeezed my balls, and we exploded in unison. Eventually I rolled off her, on my side by her side. Marilyn turned her head towards me. We just smiled, motionless, staring at each other for hours it seemed. She stirred first, stroking my face. "A pity we likely won't get a chance like this again. Though," she reached down to caress my tired penis, "if you happen to find yourself having a terribly erotic dream tonight, you might want to wake up. It might be more than a dream. And if it's not, just wake me up and I'll make it like crazy. What I like best about your folks right now is how they're such sound sleepers. And they snore, but in different timbres. Come on," she rolled away from me, standing up then pulling at me to follow, "let's go for a swim. Since there's no shower aboard. Can't have the rest of them coming back to find you stinking of the fact that you just absolutely screwed my brains out. And me," she wrapped her arms around me, "defiantly proud to smell of the first time in my life I've been fucked brainless." I pulled my shorts on, but she pushed them back off. "Suits, towels and such go in this garbage bag, set atop this flotation ring." She drew up close to me, giving her hips a shimmy. "I want us to swim together naked." The boat was anchored fairly close to shore. It was a short swim for us to be within standing distance of a small crescent of natural beach. We stood there in the wilds of waist deep water. I had one hand playing idly between her legs while the other swayed back and forth between her breasts. Marilyn got a very serious look on her face. "You do realize, don't you, that I will have to have a talk with your parents?" This was news to me. The sort of news that makes you completely forget about what you were doing. "Living," she continued, "in a big house all by myself. My own sons all gone off to the world. And there I stay, the poor sad divorcée. With no man around the house to take care of man-around-the-house sort of things. Why, I bet I'll have enough chores to keep you busy every day after school, and all day on the weekends. That is," she took a step back, growing smaller, "if you can happen to have the time to help me." "Marilyn," I closed the gap, "I will always," kissing her longly, "I will _always_," slipping a finger between her legs, "I will always have time for you." That settled, she went up to lie on the beach while I splashed away in the water. The next time I looked in shoreward she was gone, towel and all. Next I turned was when I heard her calling my name, running down from the brush line. I met her at the water's edge. "James," she declared, "I have something I want to show you. You have to see this." She grabbed my hand and I trailed after her. We dodged through the brush, soon arriving at the loveliest little glade. The grass was the plushest looking I'd ever seen. Her towel was spread out in the middle of it. "I thought," she looked up at me nearly quivering, "since we had to swim back anyway. Maybe?" My mouth went to hers and my hands swept to her breasts. Our knees buckled us to the ground. The surprise that my cock was hard enough again to slide up inside her was really no surprise, not given the circumstances. We were, after all, two explorers, fresh off the boat, committed to discovering new territories. ========================= Like? Yes? No? 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