Message-ID: <15800eli$9810020528@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: gordond103@aol.com (GordonD103) Subject: RP {Gordie D} Beneath Rock Harbor(corrected)(MF cons, underwater) 0Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d 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: <19981001142908.12282.00004772@ng14.aol.com> Contains sexually explicit material Do not read if under eighteen E-mail comments welcome Archiving OK ---------------//-------------------- Problem with disappearing punctuation . . . Beneath Rock Harbor by Gordie D (GordonD103@aol.com) I'm always kind of uncomfortable riding in luxury cars. Totally smooth and silent, air conditioned, with soft leather seats that perfectly conform to your body, I think it's the remote, disconnected feeling that I find disconcerting. I'm much more comfortable in my noisy, rough riding 1968 Dodge pickup. I don't want to say the woman driving the car I was in reminded me a little of a luxury car herself, but . . . I had known her, Frieda Miller, for years, first working for her father, now for her. Her father ran Miller Maritime Insurance in Miami, and had passed the business onto his daughter when he retired. They regularly contracted with me to dive down and inspect and photograph sunken vessels they had insured, to check for any signs of insurance fraud. Frieda was very attractive, if a bit on the serious side for me. Her hair was carefully styled to look like it wasn't carefully styled, and you couldn't tell it was dyed, only it was too perfect a shade of light brown not to be. I can't remember seeing her in the same outfit twice, and her trim figure seemed to shout, "I hit the gym every morning at 6AM!" I always had the urge, every time I saw her, to tell her guys didn't mind a little bit of a butt on a girl. We were about the same age, and when we had first met years ago there might have been some spark of mutual attraction, but we were really just too different from one another. I ran a one person diving school, doing insurance work on the side, only getting serious about finding work toward the end of the month, when rent and alimony were due. By and large, diving instructors aren't exactly go-getter, Fortune 500 types, and I guess wouldn't mesh too well with Frieda's way of life. She worked pretty damn hard, a local independent agency up against the big national firms, getting up and heading to work every morning at 5AM, my usual bedtime. We had gone out to dinner a few times when we had first met, but quickly realized it wouldn't work out and settled into a routine of kidding around, idle flirting, and occasionally meeting for lunch to find out what was new with one another. Frieda surprised me a little while ago, expressing some interest in learning how to dive, and I encouraged her, thinking it would do her some good. As pretty as she was, her hectic work schedule was beginning to show on her face a bit. When you're diving you forget about the past and the future, and just think about the moment you're in, just what I figured she needed. I met with her once a week at various spots up and down the beach, and applying the same seriousness and diligence to her diving that she did to her business affairs, quickly caught on, becoming comfortable in the water after just three or four lessons. After a few months I had taught her pretty much every thing I could, but we kept on diving most every Sunday anyway, just enjoying ourselves. Late one Saturday I got a call from Frieda. She told me that a sailboat, insured by her agency, had caught fire and sunk off Rock Harbor, about midway down Key Largo. She asked me if I could get to it tomorrow and inspect it, before the scavengers that cruise the area got to it and stripped it of all its valuables. You have to get to a sunken boat quickly- If you can show that the owner removed all the valuables before the boat went down, you can make a good case for insurance fraud, but if you leave it too long, you can't prove it wasn't done by the thugs who roam the waterways, looking for opportunities. Since it was on a Sunday, I asked Frieda if she wouldn't like to come out with me. I could teach her how to use the underwater camera, and the basics of how to safely inspect the interior of a sunken boat. I couldn't afford a partner to work with me, and since poking around the cabin of a boat while underwater has more than a few hazards, I was glad to have any company I could get. She said it sounded like fun, and agreed to meet me at my dive shop early the next morning. I decided to sleep on the cot in back so we could get an early start. "Hey Joe! C'mon lazyass, get up," I heard Frieda call out, banging on the door. "Jeez, why do I need an ex-wife when I've got you around," I said, scratching and yawning, opening the door for her. As I carried the equipment to my ancient, battered pickup, which Frieda joshingly referred to as my "Land Rover", she said, "Listen, would all this stuff fit in the trunk of my car?," Pointing at her gleaming silver Lexus. "It will be a long drive." I shrugged and said it probably would, lugging the tanks over to it. Whisking along A1A, I looked through a plastic bag of CDs she had just bought. The bag they were in was emblazoned with the Virgin Megastore logo. I held the bag up to her and asked, "You sure you should be shopping here?" "Very funny. Although, with the way things have been going for me, maybe it's appropriate." "What about that guy, with the Porsche, a psychiatrist or something?" "Yeah . . . It really didn't work out . . . Our schedules, y'know." She gave a resigned shrug. About halfway there I talked Frieda into stopping for breakfast. Since the insurance company would be picking up the tab, I ordered steak and eggs, and Frieda had toast and half a grapefruit, which she idly picked at. After gazing out the window for a while, she asked, "So, how have things been going for you?" I shrugged (We both seemed to be shrugging a lot lately). "Oh, you know me." "Any ladyfriends I should know about? Anyone out there silly enough to go out with you?" I smiled. "Well, with alimony and all, I've been pretty broke lately. I haven't really had the money to get anything going. Summers coming up though, things'll pick up then. I guess I'll find someone dumb enough." "Oh, listen to you. You're not that gruesome looking." "Yeah, well, you try picking up chicks with a car like mine." I noticed Frieda had been toying around with her drinking straw. "You quit smoking again?" "Yeah, again," She said wearily, adding, sarcastically, "This time for sure." "Well, when you want to quit smoking, you have to find something to take it's place," I said, eyeing her suggestively. "Oh really. And what would you suggest?" "Hmm, I don't know . . . something equally stimulating . . . miniature golf maybe." She let out a little laugh. "Yeah, that'd be more action than I've gotten recently, though. Look, would you finish already? The sun's been up for an hour." After speaking with the harbormaster, we got a pretty good idea of where the boat had sunk. It was just about fifty yards offshore, so we would be able to swim out to it, and wouldn't need to rent a boat of our own. We carried the gear to the end of the jetty and I helped Frieda on with hers, then put my own on. The wreck was in fairly shallow water, so I figured we wouldn't need wetsuits. I was wearing a probably ten year old pair of trunks with a faded Hawaiian print, and she was wearing a light pink bikini, the bottoms cut high on the sides to show off her narrow hips and slight ripple of muscles on her stomach, the top giving a slight pushup effect, showing a nice bit of cleavage. Implants? I figured so. Just like the color of her hair, her breasts were a little too perfect. Her arms and legs were gracefully muscled, and she had a light, even tan all over. (I know, I said earlier that I don't mind a woman with a little bit of a butt, and I don't. Skinny, curvy, if you're a chick, I'll probably like you). I'm in pretty decent shape myself, doing push-ups every day and keeping my gut under control, but I suddenly wished I had shaved the hair off my shoulders. Frieda certainly wasn't the type of woman I usually associated with, though. Most of the women I went with liked to have a beer or three, and wouldn't go into a gym unless they mistook it for a bar. Frieda insisted on taking the photographs, so before we put our masks on I showed her how the camera worked, and explained to her that, for safeties sake, only one of us would go into the cabin at a time, the other waiting by the entrance. We swam out, going slowly against the weight of our equipment. I spotted the wreck, in about twenty feet of water, and waved Frieda over. I handed the camera to her, gave our equipment a last checkover, nodded at her, then dove for the bottom. It really is like entering another world. The muted sunlight swirling around, the feeling of floating, moving in slow motion, every dive was different and you never knew what to expect, so you just opened your eyes wide and took it all in. It kind of made you feel like a little kid. But the part I really liked was how the surface world, and all it's problems and concerns were totally forgotten. It was a real feeling of freedom. I stayed a little bit behind Frieda to make sure she was doing okay, and at the same time admired her graceful body. We swam around the sunken sailboat, and Frieda pointed to a small hole just below the waterline where the fire had burned through the hull. I opened the door to the cabin and looked in. Everything looked okay, so I turned and waved her in, Frieda working her way slowly and carefully. I watched her examining the interior, her body moving in graceful slow motion. Man, was she beautiful. Watching the dappled sunlight that was coming in through the windows playing over the curves of her body, the muscles of her butt contracting as she kicked her feet to maneuver around, I gradually, without meaning to, got a hard-on. Oh, I did dream about her now and then, but it felt kind of awkward, since we had been friends for so long, and never really attempted anything romantic. If you must know, yes, I have jerked off underwater. I had never really planned to, but once on a dive off of Islamorada, poking around the coral reefs, I swam by two female divers who were exploring the same reef. As we approached each other we waved, and just as we were passing, one of them pulled down her bikini bottom, flashing her butt at me. The other woman socked her friend on the arm, not believing what she had just done. You know when you just have to jerk off, right now? I swam down to the bottom of the reef and found a small crevice that didn't really conceal me much, but I was too horny to wait. I slipped off my trunks and put a rock on top of them, then started stroking my dick, thinking of the woman's beautiful butt, thinking, oh man, why didn't I just reach over and grab it, squeeze it, pull her over to me, feel the soft, firm curves of it, let my hand slip between her legs, rub her pussy, then yank down my trunks and grab her hips, pulling her onto my big throbbing erection, thrusting, pumping her. With that in mind I let out a groan into my breathing regulator as I came, a jet of cum shooting out of my dick, suddenly slowing as it met the resistance of the water, then dissipating gradually as it floated away. I watched as four or five more spurts shot out and drifted away, hopefully not going on to knock up some unsuspecting female swimmer. As I pulled on my trunks I happened to look up, and saw the two women I had just run across, floating about thirty feet above me. They had been watching me the entire time, and when they saw I had noticed them, they gave me a round of applause then quickly swam away, looking at one another. Did this experience discourage me? All I can say is, women, be careful swimming off the coast of south Florida. Frieda was just finishing up her inspection, scanning the interior one last time, then turned to swim out. The motion of the water as she turned around dislodged a towel that was on a top shelf. The towel drifted down and draped over her head, Frieda turning quickly in surprise and banging her head on a cabinet. She began to panic, thrashing her arms around. I reached in and caught her wrist, slowly but firmly pulling her out. Frieda was hyperventilating, her eyes wide. Getting into something like that in a small confined space can be pretty scary, so I held onto her hand and put my arm around her lower back, underneath her air tanks, till she had calmed down. In just half a minute she looked at me and nodded, smiling with her eyes. I kept holding her. You know how I said the surface world seems to disappear from your mind when you're diving? I wanted someone, and I knew she did too. We looked at each other. Money, schedules, responsibilities, they didn't exist. It was like we were the only two people on earth. It was natural that we would come together. Gazing at each other, I stroked her waist, moving down to the curve of her butt, and Frieda slowly ran her hand along the muscles of my arm and chest, working down, sliding it into the waistband of my shorts. Not being able to kiss, we just stared, hypnotized, into one another's eyes. Pulling our hips together, she ran her hands over my butt, then slid my trunks down, my erection springing free. I stroked her hips, her butt, slowly pulling down her bikini bottom, exposing a neat triangle of pubic hair. The ocean water swirling around my crotch felt great. Frieda maneuvered herself down a little, wrapping her hand around my dick, caressing my balls with her other hand. I think she saw how hard I was, how the veins were bulging out and stroked very gently, so the fun wouldn't be over too soon. Even underwater, I could tell how soft her hands were, her slender fingers playing over my thick erection. After a minute I pulled her up and got her to hold onto a light fixture on the side of the cabin to keep herself steady. With her legs floating in front of her, her body undulating with the current, I circled my hand between her legs, zeroing in on the little bump of her clit while Frieda slid her hand under the straps of her diving harness, under her bikini top, and massaged her nipples. You might not think it was a very close or intimate encounter, not being able to kiss or even really embrace because of our harnesses, but you'd be wrong. We felt so alone, so isolated, forgetting that anyone else even existed, I can't remember ever feeling connected in quite this way. I felt her clit becoming erect. I parted her legs a bit more and moved in closer, circling my fingers around, admiring her little pussy in the dappled sunlight. It was taking a risk, but . . . I took a couple quick breaths, then one deep one, took out my breathing regulator and leaned in, running my tongue around her clit. Frieda looked down in surprise, then let her head drop back, closing her eyes. After a few tries I was able to tickle her with my tongue for about twenty seconds at a time before needing a breath. I could tell she was really getting into it- Her hips were writhing around while she ran her fingers through my hair, pushing me into her. Getting it with all the ocean water swirling around her groin really must have been an experience. After a few minutes I got a little light headed and decided to take over with just my hand. Frieda looked up at me with that heavy lidded, satisfied, lustful expression. She swam against me, pulling our hips together, my very erect dick laying across her flat stomach. Looking into my eyes, she slowly lowered herself. With one hand stroking my erection and the other on her breathing regulator, I knew what she had in mind. She wasn't that experienced a diver, and I thought about stopping her, but, oh man did I want it. Feeling the currents of water running along the length of my dick, Frieda took a couple of deep breaths, pulled the regulator from her mouth and took two quick tentative sucks before taking a breath. Trying again, she was able to take a few more, and after a few more tries, with a determination to do as well as I had done, she was able to work her mouth up and down for as long as I had, using a lot of suction, firmly running her soft tongue along the length of my achingly erect dick. Now I know what she had been feeling, and it was incredible- Getting sucked off with the tropical ocean water circulating around my groin was unlike anything I had ever felt. She eventually put the regulator back in her mouth and swam up, coming face to face with me. We stroked each other, looking hungrily, eagerly into one another's eyes. I looked up and down the sunken sailboat, then put my arm around Frieda and led her to the front of the boat. There was a railing running along the bow, coming to a point at the very front, and, as though she were reading my mind, she swam up to the front where she could reach the railing on both sides. Turning over on her back, gripping the railing to steady herself, I swam on top of her, holding onto her and positioning myself. We looked at each other. It was a helpless feeling not being able to kiss, and I hesitated a moment. Frieda wrapped both her legs around me and impatiently pulled me into her. Holding onto her shoulders I poked the tip of my dick around, found her little opening and slowly eased in. The sensation of going from the warm Caribbean water into her hot, slick, tight pussy was almost indescribable. It was pretty awkward at first, with the weight of our equipment and the resistance of the water, but after a minute I got a slow, fluid motion going, Frieda using her strong lower body to buck her hips upward into me. Her role of overworked business person, mine as flat broke diving bum were totally cast off, our minds free and clear of everything except the feelings we were experiencing, being connected at the groin, the water surrounding us making us feel even closer, the steady wave of pleasure washing outward through our bodies. We pumped at each other very slowly. I wasn't able to go any faster, and decided I really didn't want to. I wanted this moment to last a while. I'm not exactly known for taking my time in these matters, but this was kind of special. We fucked for, what, the next five, ten, twenty minutes? I really couldn't tell you. Frieda eventually let go of the railing, letting us drift away with her legs still tightly around me, keeping us connected, floating, drifting with the tide but not caring where we were headed. It took us a moment to develop a rhythm, awkwardly pumping at each other till we coordinated ourselves. Floating through the Caribbean waters, we thrusted into one another in perfect synchronization, completely in a world of our own. It was like a dream, drifting further and further from reality, being pulled back only when I felt my orgasm coming. I pumped as fast as I possibly could, Frieda picking up on it and pumping into me more quickly. I dug my fingers into her butt, really humping her in to me, feeling the tight muscles of her buttocks, toned from so many hours in the gym, powerfully contracting as she thrust her hips into me. My dick, seconds away from coming, was pumped up to it's absolute maximum, snugged within the tight muscles of Frieda's vagina. Exploding inside her, I had to concentrate to keep from spitting out my regulator, groaning as I shot out a sudden, powerful jet of cum. I pushed in her and stopped pumping, continuing to shoot spurt after spurt, my entire erection being firmly gripped, milked of every last drop. I can never 'just be friends' with a woman- there's always going to be some flirting and silliness with me, but a guy does need a woman he can sit and talk with occasionally. Looking at Frieda, I suddenly became realized how important she had been for me over the years, what a good friend she had been. I slowly, self-consciously pulled out of her. We held onto one another, floating, staring, still a little bit dazed. I began to come out of it, looking around for my trunks and her bikini bottom. Putting them on, we slowly made our way to the surface and swam toward the jetty, the reality of what had just happened dawning on us. Sitting on some rocks, we stared out at the sea, breathing heavily, not bothering to take off our equipment. We looked over at each other with somewhat blank expressions. Simultaneously, we looked down at the bright yellow camera clipped to Frieda's harness. We both slowly grinned- oh yeah, we went down there to take pictures of a sunken sailboat- then broke up laughing. As our laughter died down, an awkwardness settled over us. Oh well, we can sit here being awkward, or . . . I leaned over and kissed her, a little tentatively, Frieda opening her mouth a bit, realizing along with me that this was better than sitting there being uncomfortable. The kiss became more intense, not representing a deep passionate love or anything, more like a very enthusiastic thank you. We sat there on the jetty for a while, drying off in the morning sun and warm offshore breeze, gazing at the horizon, till Frieda got up and yanked on my ear. "C'mon lazyass, we've gotta get this film developed." "Jeez, what do I need an ex-wife for . . . " I had known her for so long that the few words she had said to me had said a lot. Her confident nature had taken over the discomfort we had first felt, realizing there was nothing wrong with what had happened. It wasn't a cheap one night stand, it was two friends who knew one another well, better than they had realized, knowing what the other wanted. As we got up to walk to the car the brief glance she gave me seemed to say, "Thanks Joe, you knew just what I needed. I hope it meant as much to you." My wink answered her. "You better believe it did, sweetie. You don't know how much it meant . . . " The End -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----