by Bridy McAvoy
“No problem, you can have first crack at it while I get the coffee on. Then, since we’re expecting visitors in less than an hour, I suggest you go put some clothes on, woman.”
“Ah, do I have to?”
“Personally, I’d keep you naked and chained up in here without a problem, but Max might get the wrong idea.”
She shrugged, making her breasts bounce now she’d discarded the Merry Widow. I stood and watched as she stroked the stockings down her legs. She made that performance look like a piece of art—very erotic art.
* * * *
We were sitting on the terrace with our second cup of coffee when the distant puttering of an outboard motor swelled closer. A minute or so later the sharp nose of an eighteen-foot speedster came round the corner and the swarthy outdoorsman at the helm swung it expertly alongside our dock.
Sam rose to her feet and scampered down to the dock. I watched as she half promenaded, half ran down to grab the rope and tie up the boat. She was wearing the tight pink striped cotton shorts she’d briefly put on the night before. I knew for a fact she was naked underneath them, mainly because they were so tight. Above that she wore a plain pink T-shirt that was tight enough to outline her breasts, and showed her erect nipples through the thin material. The only other thing she wore was a pair of pink flip-flops. Her hair was pulled back into a pony-tail, but she looked nothing like the staid librarian her work clothes portrayed her as. A sexy little minx was the best way to describe her as she bounced from one foot to the other as she waited for Max to leap from the boat to the dock. Her breasts bounced too.
She gave him a tight hug and, allowing him to give her a peck on the cheek, motioned for him to join us on the terrace. I watched his face—he had an expression that I’d never seen on anyone before. Then my mind clicked on what she’d told me last night. That slow smile meant one thing. I’ve had that, and if I play it right I can have it again.
Sorry, fella, no fucking chance!
I could tell Sam was a little annoyed about it as well. She’d said it was something she hated, and I could see why as green flames of jealousy welled up in my head. I’d managed to keep them well suppressed throughout last night, less so the previous night. Now, though, I found myself wishing she’d not dressed quite as provocatively as she escorted Max up onto the patio to introduce us.
“Max, this is my husband, Simon. Simon, as you’ve guessed, this is Max. He runs the boatyard a couple of miles down the lake.”
I rose to my feet and we shook hands. He was a typical burly outdoorsman, his hands rough and calloused from hard work. He’d obviously read me as a college milksop, so when he put the squeeze on, I squeezed right back. I think I even won that one. I’d been Running Back in my college days, so I could play him at his own game.
Having proved my credentials, he relaxed and started talking. He checked if I’d ever run a Swift boat before, and when I said no, he led me down to the boat to go over the controls and safety devices with me. I was surprised to find out there was actually a speed limit on the lake, the boat could hit twenty easily, but we had to keep it under eight. There were water rangers, and they came down hard. Apparently it was about wash erosion on the far side of the lake.
Sam had gone inside, grabbed another coffee for Max, and was sitting on the deck watching us. She had her knees drawn up under her chin, and this was showing the whole length of her legs. It was also showing us the taut panel of material between her legs. Max couldn’t help the occasional glance. I knew what Sam was doing, though. She was getting her own back for Max’s smirk—showing him something he could no longer have. She was emphasizing she was mine now, and that the arrangement was exclusive. My opinion of how she’d dressed changed—she knew exactly what she was doing. She had dressed provocatively, precisely to make the point. My jealousy dissipated.
After a few minutes, Max drained his coffee and left. I’d heard a car pull up shore side of the condos a few minutes earlier. Sam had stiffened but relaxed when it became obvious there was nobody getting out of the car. I guess the younger version of Max did as his father told him to.
As I walked up the dock, Sam rose to her feet and embraced me, her lips reaching for mine before Max was out of sight. I knew it was for show, for his benefit, so, as I kissed her, my arms pulled her in, melding her body into mine. She did more than that, wrapping her arms around my neck and driving her tongue into my mouth. She literally melted into me and I swear I heard him sigh as he turned the corner out of sight.
Once he was gone, she let go and, stepping back, led the way into the condo so we could sort out everything we wanted to take with us. She knew I hadn’t kissed her for our own sake—I’d played the game along with her.
She fished into the cupboard and came out with a couple of small string bikinis I hadn’t seen before. I guess they’d lived here. She threw them into a bag along with a couple of towels and a pair of shorts for me. I wasn’t big on swimming, but she loved it. I was even less keen on lake swimming. Despite it being early July that water looked cold!
The picnic was basic, but that wasn’t a problem, we’d make up for that tonight. I’d decided, but not told Sam, that we were going out for a meal tonight, and she was going to wear that orange dress. I guess that sounds kind of cruel, but I was doing something else—I was going to change her associations for that dress into something, hopefully, happier.
This afternoon, though, once we got back from the boat outing, she was going to tell me more.
The picnic hamper rattled and banged as we puttered around the lake for a couple of hours, despite it being securely strapped behind the seat. I’d driven us for the first hour, then swapped with Sam. That allowed me to sit partially turned, facing her. I could see her breasts in profile through the thin shirt, and the long length of her bare legs below the shorts. She looked fantastic, like some kind of sex kitten. I knew what game she was playing, veering between subtle sexuality, and the more blatant, almost sex siren, approach. Sam was trying to show me what I was missing if, at the end of this process, I couldn’t live with her confession, her deception, couldn’t stay with her.
I didn’t know how many more affairs she was going to confess to, but so far everything related to the time before she met me. I couldn’t find fault with any of that—only with her concealing it so long by pretending to be innocent and pure. She’d alluded to non-exclusive behavior while we were dating, having other men behind my back, but as yet she hadn’t told me about them. She’d promised to, and that would be harder, but I’m not sure if it was her infidelity as such, or the more personal fact that she’d been putting out elsewhere while keeping me hanging on.
I knew she knew I was watching her, enjoying looking at her more than looking at the lake and the scenery. Since it was still quite early season—the kids would still be in school—the lake was quite deserted. We did see the occasional boat, usually fishing, and we steered clear so as not to disturb them. For the time being though, we were on our own—not another boat in sight.
“Getting hungry yet?”
“Sure.”
“Listen, that little island up ahead has a perfect picnic spot.”
“You’re the one steering.”
Although the side her condo was on was quite well developed, a fair part of the other side of the lake was undeveloped. There were woods with a lot of trails but little housing, and virtually no mooring points. The rocky island was, as a result, uninhabited and looked wild. She circled around it once, and then nosed in toward a narrow opening between two rocks on the northern side. The opening was only a few feet wider than the boat—I guess the rock was sheer below the waterline. If you didn’t know it was navigable, you wouldn’t try and enter.
“Max showed me this place.”
“Ah.”
So Max knew, which meant his sons knew—that made me slightly less comfortable. I wondered how many men she’d brought here for a picnic. I’d caught the emphasis she’d put on the word showed. She had plans other t
han just eating. After a dozen yards or so the inlet widened out, forming what would be described in the Caribbean as a lagoon. On one side the trees grew down to the water’s edge. To my right there was a flat rock ledge, about a foot above the level of the water. It didn’t look man-made, but there were several rusty rings set by screw bolts into the edge. Sam spun the boat to point toward the exit, then cut the engine and drifted up to the rock, reached out and secured the boat to one of the rings. She hopped out, still more nimble on the water than me, and roped the front and back of the boat to another two rings, making it secure.
“Come on, lazybones. Time to hit solid earth again.”
She chuckled and skipped along the rock, stopping to look up at the blue sky between the silver birch and ash trees that lined our little oasis. I handed the picnic hamper up onto the dock, then the bag of swimming togs before climbing out myself.
It really was peaceful, and I could see why Sam loved it here. That was obvious by the shit-eating grin on her face as she wandered around. She seemed to have forgotten I was there as she explored long-forgotten nooks and crannies.
One particular tree had some rather frayed ropes attached and Sam rummaged in the undergrowth around it until she came up with what looked like a rather dirty flag. I recognized it, from somewhere deep in old school history memories, as a signal flag. One half yellow, the other half blue. Working with practiced fingers, she attached it to the rope and ran it up to the top of the tree that acted as a flag pole, then stepped back.
When she saw me watching she giggled. “That’s a K—tells anyone approaching to stop immediately and go away. Says the inlet is occupied. We’ll take it down before we go.”
“Will that work?”
“Anybody who knows about it, it will, yes. There’re two other flags there, for emergencies. You can see that flag from the entrance to the inlet, but not from further out. I was looking for it, that’s why I circled the island before coming in.”
“Right, clever.”
“Stops any embarrassing moments.”
“Like what?”
She looked at me, kicked off her flip-flops and reached for the edge of her shirt. A moment later her breasts were in view as she discarded the T-shirt on the rock, then started working those cute tight shorts down her legs. Seconds later she was naked.
“Like the sight of me skinny dipping, or my husband warming me up afterward with his naked body.”
Before I could respond, I was treated to the sight of her running to the edge of the rock and executing a perfect racing dive into the still surface of the inlet. She surfaced, squealing. “That’s fucking cold.”
I laughed and watched as she splashed her way out to the middle of the tiny lagoon, then lazily stroked back. Looking after my own interests, I backed away from the edge as she floated on her back, her breasts out of the water, the light shadow of her blonde landing strip just about at the level of the water. There was a lot of promise in the way she floated.
There was no way I was going in that water, though, however much she tried to tempt me. It looked cold enough to me from out here. She’d told me it was cold, anyway. I backed away from the edge as she floated close to the edge then lifted herself out.
“That was freezing! Get me a towel, please, honey.”
That I could do and, when I handed it to her, I expected her to wrap herself in it and demand a hug to help her warm up. Instead she spread it on the rock and lay on it. The water on the front of her body formed droplets that lay on her skin, especially on her legs and arms. She lay still, her eyes closed, letting the sun warm her. Since she was cold, her nipples pointed to the sky, hard and erect, and the downy hair of her landing strip glistened with tiny beads of wetness. A vision to awaken any water god and, not for the first time today, my cock was piston-hard in my jeans.
I sat next to her, careful not to let my shadow fall over her and block the sun’s warmth, making no move to actually touch her, or more. She pouted and lifted herself up on her elbows. Water ran in slowly coalescing rivulets down her chest, further accentuating the effect.
“Stop teasing me, Sam.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what you’re doing.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Spoilsport.”
“Food.”
Sam sniffed. “Men and their appetites.”
“Listen, you’re the one who always said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.”
“And you’re the one who said laughter could charm my panties to the floor. It worked enough times for you. Well, look, no panties.”
She spread her legs apart, bending her knees up, and dropped a hand to lazily swipe across her slit. Her fingers came away wet, and I knew that wasn’t just from the water.
“Sam. Stop. Food.”
“Oh? I’m reducing you to monosyllabic answers, am I?”
Nevertheless, she sat up and, reaching over, grabbed another towel, then made a production of drying herself before tying on one of the string bikinis. This one was silver and showed off her pale skin to perfection. Once again, she was pushing at me.
We ate the picnic in companionable silence and afterward she tried to get me to take a dip with her. I refused, but she still went ahead, although this time she did so with her bikini on. When she emerged from the water I could see why she’d picked that particular suit. It was a tan-through suit—not one designed to get wet. It had gone see-through. As she stood there shivering, she appeared more naked than she had when she’d been skinny dipping. I could see every detail of her slit, every detail of her nipples and the surrounding areolas with their prominent goose bumps.
“I should make you wear that back to the condo.”
“Then I will, on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You fuck me tonight.”
I shook my head, watching as her shoulders slumped. She’d actually staked a lot, personally, on me giving in, but I wasn’t ready. I grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it, then held her as she shivered.
“Not going to make a promise I can’t keep.”
“Why not?”
“Because I suspect you’re going to tell me things I don’t want to hear this afternoon. About things you did after I was on the scene. As a result, I might have too much to drink tonight when we eat, trying to blot out the feelings. You’d have to pour me into bed and forgo the promised fuck.”
“Honey, I can get you hard, even when blind drunk.”
“Still not happening. I was trying to let you down easy. You’re trying hard, Sam, I can see that. Maybe too hard.”
“You still want me to tell you more?”
“I want you to tell me it all. Every little detail, and every awkward moment. Only then have I got a chance of moving forward.”
I was still holding her.
“Moving forward, with or without me?”
“I don’t know. I’m being honest, Sam, as honest as you are. It’s not easy for me. It’s hard.”
Her hand dropped and caressed the front of my jeans, holding my cock. “It’s already hard, honey. Has been most of the day today.”
“I know.”
“How can you stand it?”
“Maybe I’ll jerk off in the shower when we get back.”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Why not?”
“Because if that’s what you need, I’ll do the fucking jerking. You got me, Mister Hart?”
I laughed and lifted her off her feet, spun her round and put her down again, by which time she was laughing too. That broke the somber and threatening mood, so we packed everything back in the boat, and she ran the flag down. I climbed into the boat and she undid the front and back ropes and joined me while I cast off the middle one. Only then did I realize she was still wearing the tan-through bikini and nothing else. It had dried a bit, but was still semi-transparent.
I raised an eyebrow but Sam just piloted the boat out of the inlet
and into the lake proper, heading for the row of condos on the far side. Twenty minutes later we tied up at the dock and, removing the ignition key, she tucked it into one of her bra cups for safe keeping—she had no pockets, after all. I carried everything else into the condo and she ducked into the bathroom for a shower while I once more made coffee and carried it outside.
Fifteen minutes later she joined me, this time wearing the other bikini, a white one. I looked at it carefully—it covered the important places, but that was about all you could say. Her hair was loose as she left it to dry naturally.
“This one’s a standard one, okay? Not see-through, even if it gets wet.”
“Just checking.”
We discussed where to go for dinner and I booked a reservation using my phone, and then we just gazed out over the lake in silence for the time it took for her hair to dry.
“Time for another instalment.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “Okay. But can we go inside?”
“Why?”
“So nobody can hear us.”
“We could go back out on the lake.”
She shook her head. “No, honey. Let’s keep boat rides for good times only, okay?”
“Okay, but tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“Have you been fucked on that boat?”
She bit her lip, then nodded.
“And on that rock ledge we picnicked on?”
She nodded again. She was being honest but my good mood had evaporated, and hers was rapidly going south too.
We headed back indoors. I almost wished I hadn’t asked.
Chapter Twelve – Meeting Me
I guess that Sunday went past in a blur, my mind in a whirl. I’d finally been fucked by somebody other than Mr. Bryant, somebody more my own age. I’d finally done the deed, but I’d been deeply dissatisfied on several levels. I was, literally, unsatisfied, because I hadn’t cum—in fact, I hadn’t even played with myself, either in the shower or when I went to bed.