Key West Passage
(click to enlarge)
Damn she was beautiful.
I couldn’t believe something was actually going right in my life.
Not that I was destitute or anything. But my relationships with women
were—well—a mess. No, it must
be the wrong boat, and besides she’s married.
I reevaluated my
situation. I didn’t need this. Since
my latest divorce, I had met many good-looking women. It’s just that nothing
seemed to work with them. I was hoping she would be ugly, so I could keep my
raging hormones in check. I just wanted to sail. As I drew near, I made out the
name on the transom—it was the right boat.
It was Linda and she was gorgeous.
She stood about 5’4”.
Her red hair shone in the early morning sunlight.
She was dressed in shorts and a blue top.
Her clothes revealed an athletic almost muscular build, most appropriate
for a woman I estimated to be in her early 40s.
As I stopped at the boat, she turned and a radiant smile and twinkling
blue eyes greeted me.
“Hello, are you
Chuck?”
“Yes, you’re Linda, I
assume.”
Her strong hand grasped
mine to help me over the side. As
she bent, her top fell slightly open. I had a brief glance at the tops of some
beautiful breasts. There was an
immediate reaction in my pants. I felt guilty of some crime.
I’d been offered a free
ride, and I was already sneaking peeks at the Captain’s wife.
Speaking of Captains, I
saw a large body emerge from the companionway.
“So you’re Chuck.
I’m Steve. I guess you already met Linda.”
His eyes went from me to her and back to me. The jealous type I guessed.
Weakly I replied,
“Yes.” Not too good a start.
Calming myself, and my
prick (and secretly calling myself a “prick”), I listened to Steve’s
instructions. He stood about 6’
with gray/blond hair and, oh who the hell cares what men look like anyway. I
ruefully admitted I was jealous already. Steve
seemed a bit older say about 55. Was
she his “trophy wife?” Perhaps
she would prefer a younger man like me?
Get a grip, I thought.
That’s the end of another of my silly daydreams.
That’s all I need, to get into a mess with a married women on a boat in
the middle of the Gulf with a large, mad husband and nowhere to run.
I missed most of
Steve’s safety talk, as I was distracted.
In spite of my attempt to ignore her, the brief look at Linda’s breasts
was consuming my mind. I moved so
she was behind me, but she was so busy that she kept coming into view. Then she
bent to secure a line, and I had a good look at a well-rounded derriere.
Damn, I thought, I had best get off the boat now.
I didn’t.
All I caught of Steve’s
talk was that he was in charge of sailing, and she was in charge below.
Fair enough I thought. I’m
a good sailor, so I knew I would be helpful.
We were on our way to Key
West. After my second divorce, I still had plenty of money for
life, so I quit my job and headed to St Petersburg.
I loved to sail, but single-handed boating wasn’t something I wanted.
While contemplating purchasing a boat at a dealer, I mentioned to the
salesman that I had never sailed in Florida and was unsure what type of boat I
needed. He had arranged for me to sail to Key West with Linda and
Steve. They had had another
passenger, set to sail with them, but last minute emergencies had caused her to
drop out. They were looking for
another hand.
We motored most of the
way through Tampa Bay, then set sail on a course of 175 degrees.
We had a strong easterly breeze, so it looked like we could make good
time with few sail changes. We had
little to do but sit and chat.
My problem with Linda
increased. Not only was she drop-dead beautiful, she was also
intelligent. All I had met were
airhead women in the last year. Linda
was so different. She was equally
comfortable discussing world events, politics and philosophies of life.
Her eclectic taste in music resulted in jazz, oldies and even some
country and western to coming over the boats sound system. To my surprise, I
learned she was 52 and they had been married for a long time.
By mid afternoon, it was
hot and she changed into a thin shirt with no bra.
Damn, her breasts looked perfect. She
was a hard worker and soon broke a sweat. Her
shirt turned more transparent. I could make out her cherry colored nipples. My
erection became difficult to conceal.
Most boating women dress in similar outfits. Life at sea leaves little room for modesty, so neither she
nor Steve seemed to notice my problem.
And so, the afternoon
passed. I talked to Linda and Steve spent time with his new sextant.
After a noon sight of the sun and an hour of cursing over his
calculations, we all had a good laugh when Steve proudly announced that we were
somewhere off the coast of Brazil.
At about 3 P.M. we saw a
thunderstorm approaching. The
weather radio announced that the storm was moving East. Steve altered course
West. The storm seemed to follow
us.
“Linda, grab the wheel,
Chuck and I are going to shorten sail.”
Steve and I struggled
with the main and finally secured two reefs.
All the while I stole glances at Linda.
She looked like an Amazon queen although a short one. The muscles in her
arms flexed, and her red hair flew as she struggled with the rising wind to hold
course.
We started to furl the
jib before the storm stuck. It
wouldn’t come down. There we were
on a pounding boat, the jib out full and the storm approaching.
Linda was too small to hold the wheel. Steve relieved her.
“Chuck, we got to get
the jib down. You take the wheel,
Linda and I will go forward to fix it.”
“Let me do it,” I
said. “I’ve got some experience
with furler drums.” Which I had.
As the storm rose in
intensity, Linda and I crept forward. I
admired her dexterity. I also admired her butt as she went ahead of me. She was now wearing a swimsuit bottom and a white
button-up shirt.
The plan was that I would
lay flat and to fix the jammed jib furler.
She would sit at my feet and hand over tools. I lay on my stomach and
began to explore the mechanism. I yelled, “screwdriver.” Linda fished one
from the sack. Then, as she was too
short, she knelt between my legs, and leaned forward to hand it to me. As I
twisted to look for the tool, the wind and her bent position opened the front of
her shirt. Her naked breasts were
exposed. They were perfect.
Quickly I lay back and
probed the furler. The problem was
obvious. A setscrew on a retaining
pin was out of place. A quick twist
of the screwdriver and all would be fixed.
I moved the screwdriver to the screw.
I placed it in the slot. I
didn’t twist.
“Now I need a
wrench.” Again Linda complied.
I was rewarded with another picture of perfect red-tipped mounds.
This time I noticed she only had two buttons fastened at the bottom.
Had they been that way when we started forward? Had she unfastened more
when I wasn’t looking? Was it the
wind?
I again pretended to do
some repairs with the wrench. Did
she know I was faking? The wind
rose even higher, so I decided it was time to end the situation.
“Screwdriver”, I yelled.
Again I was rewarded with
the gloriously open blouse. This
time I hesitated slightly to look. Her
shoulders twitched. Had she moved
them to give me a better look? I
looked into her laughing blue eyes. They
revealed nothing. Was I being
purposely teased?
Jib fixed we both began
the perilous journey back to the cockpit. Along
the way, I managed to smash both my shins; I was checking her ass and nursing
another hard-on instead of watching my handholds.
The storm struck with a
fury. Pounding rain, 40-knot winds, gusts to whatever, and high
seas made our life miserable for the next hour.
Thank god the jib was down, or we would have lost it.
In the midst of the storm, Linda produced hot coffee and delicious shrimp
pasta. Wow, beautiful, sexy, a good
sailor, excellent cook, a bit of a flirt and a tease.
What a woman. I wanted her
for my own. How I envied Steve.
Speaking of Steve.
He handled the boat in a highly professional manner.
His long legs stood firm on the deck as he battled the storm.
I assumed he had a long cock with which he pleasured the lovely Linda. I was now so jealous it hurt.
Why couldn’t I find a woman like her?
She was confident in her looks and marriage, yet fun loving and enjoying
teasing and flirting right under the eyes of her husband. Steve couldn’t miss
my stupid desires as I was panting like a dog.
Just as suddenly as the
storm had come up, it disappeared. The
seas calmed. We had a light snack at about 8 P.M. Again, the food and wine were
excellent. Steve set the watches. He would take the first watch until
about 2 A.M. when I would take the wheel. Linda was to be available to help
either of us if we got into trouble. The
night had turned beautifully cool. She was going to sleep in the cockpit.
I had consumed a little
too much wine, my shins hurt and my muscles were a bit sore from the days
exertions, so I was glad to be taking a rest.
We had plenty of water aboard, so I showered then crawled into the V
birth up front.
I lay with my back to the
bulkhead. Wearing only a pair of
sailing shorts, I pulled the sheet up to my chest. I felt drowsy. A half-baked muddled plan formed. Piracy. Yes, I
could knock Steve over the head, dump him overboard and abscond with the
beautiful Linda. I would keep her permanently naked. We could sail the world
together? Why not?
Why not?
It was a dumb fantasy and besides, how did one escape at 5 knots?
I began to nod. Through half open eyes, I could see the length of the boat
and half way up the companionway ladder. It
was dark up there. What were they
doing? Again, I felt pangs of jealously. I
turned off the light and…
The floorboards creaked.
I was fully awake. The red
navigation lights softly lighted the cabin.
I could make out Linda’s small form.
She was at the kitchen sink repairing her lipstick.
I wanted to go talk to her but was beginning to feel foolish.
Moments later the
floorboards again creaked, and a dark shadow appeared in my cabin door.
“Asleep?”
“No”, I answered.
“Steve sent me down.
He and I just wanted to thank you for your help today.
Without you we could have been in trouble with that jib.”
“Glad I could help.
It wasn’t really that tough to fix.”
“I know,” She
replied.
Oops did that mean she
knew I had stalled the repairs to—ok, be a dirty ole man?
“Mind if I come in for
a few minutes. I know you must be
tired.”
I hoped she didn’t hear
my sharp intake of breath, “Please do.”
The shadow moved to the edge of the bunk and sat on the corner. “I think we need some light.” She struck a match and lit a small candle lantern. A soft, weak glow filled the cabin. “You must have some extensive sailing experience to have been able to fix the jib in that sea.”
I briefly outlined some
of my more memorable voyages, omitting the names of past wives.
As I talked, she
stretched then began to unbutton the black blouse she had changed into.
I kept talking. She kept unbuttoning.
There were only three buttons. As
I babbled on, she took a small bottle from the shelf and squirted a liquid into
her hands. The smell of a woman’s
lotion immediately filled the cabin. I
stumbled on in my conversation.
With her eyes fixed upon
mine, she listened intently to my story of a week on the Chesapeake.
(I neglected to tell her that my first wife and I spent a whole week mad
at each other—no sex.) Her hands
slid under the open shirt and before my amazed eyes, she proceeded to massage
the beautiful globes I’d admired all day.
“Please go on Chuck.
It sounds like a wonderful week.”
(It wasn’t.)
I searched my brain for
more to tell her. Her eyes never left mine. She replenished the lotion and the
shirt partially opened as she twirled her fingers around her nipples lightly
touching each.
“Oh, Oh Chuckie.
You seem to have developed a problem.”
I followed her eyes to my cock bulging right through my shorts and making
a small tent of the sheet.
“Let’s hear the end
of your story Chuckie. I do love
adventures while sailing.” Embarrassed I began to repeat what I had just said.
As I talked, her eyes
again met mine. I rambled on. I felt the sheet began to move.
She was pulling it down as I talked.
Soon the sheet was at my knees. The
lump in my shorts was exposed.
I ended the Chesapeake
story and began a rendition of a sail in the Mediterranean.
(New wife, still no sex.) I felt a hand on my zipper.
It was pulling and my shorts opened wide.
I looked down and my cock was standing free and tall.
I tried to resume my
story…
“Shift your hips
Chuckie.”
I did. She pulled my
shorts to my knees.
“Ok, bend your
knees.”
I did. She pulled the
shorts off.
“Chuckie, I think
you’re too tired to talk. Just
spread your legs.” I did. Linda knelt between them.
“Lie back. I’ll show you
a little relaxation technique I learned as a young nurse, after-hours of course. All the guys loved it.”
I rested my head against
the pillow. A warm hand cupped my balls. A
second hand encircled my cock and moved up and down.
I was in heaven. The world
was perfect. A beautiful woman was
masturbating me and…Steve. Where
was Steve? I started up and looked
over her shoulder through the dark cabin.
She noticed my
consternation and laughed, “Don’t worry. Just relax.
You were so good today. And
remember, I’m in charge below decks.”
I relaxed—kind of.
Her nursing training had paid off. She
certainly knew her way around a hard penis. One hand fondled my balls as the
other varied the length and speed of the strokes. I felt I was going to go—a
moment of panic. I didn’t want
this to end so soon. She sensed my
needs and slowed her hand.
I admired her beautiful
red fingernails. They contrasted so
nicely with my hard shaft. But I
wanted more. I reached and opened her blouse.
Her naked breasts swayed as she continued to stroke.
I cupped my hands under
the warm mounds. “You wanted to
do that all day, didn’t you Chuckie?”
“Yes”, I moaned as my
fingers felt her hard nipples.She leaned forward.
Her warm, soft, oiled breasts engulfed my hardness.
I began to move my hips. I fucked her breasts. Her hands moved to hold both mounds closer together to increase my pleasure.
Her head was at my chest. I could feel her breath on my skin. A tongue began to lick. I felt a gentle sucking on my right nipple.
All the while, her hands gently massaged her breasts as my shaft moved up and down in the pleasurable hollow.
Pure eroticism.
He body rose slightly. One of her hands cupped a perfumed breast. Her other hand moved the head of my penis to make slow circles around her left nipple.
I was going to go. I didn’t want to.
I wanted to fuck her.
The light flickered on Linda’s red tipped fingers. She had released her grip and was now lightly caressing my cock with her fingertips and thumb. She was prolonging my pleasure. The veins on my dick extended. I thought they would explode.
An oiled finger slipped further under my balls.
Lower it went.
She
touched my anus.
I was going to go.
I didn’t want to.
I wanted to fuck her.
A shaft of pleasure.
She smiled.
A tingling allover
feeling…
My back arched towards
those magic hands and breasts.
I went.
Repeated spurts.
Wetness.
Pleasure.
Complete satisfaction.
Linda’s experienced
hand continued to milk me until I went soft.
I collapsed.
“There, Chuckie. I think you feel better now.” She took a small towel, cleaned her breasts and then me.
“Two A.M. will come
early so try to get some rest. I’ll
report to the Captain that all is well below and the crew comfortable.”
She stood then glanced at
her blouse. “Oh my, Chuckie. You stained it. Guess
I’ll have to change. ”
Off it came.
Half- naked she stood proudly before me. Pursing her lips she blew out
the candle.
The
floorboards creaked as she walked into the main cabin.
I rolled over.
I slept.