Chapter 1

I replied recently to email from a friend who asked about my summer vacation. You may like to see my reply, too . . .

Lily, you were nice enough to ask in your email last week:

> "What has occupied your summer?"

Yes, well I happened to drink too much good black coffee that night and lay awake thinking how best to answer your question . . .

In the following recounting, I linger over the background settings to what happened: read it when you have time for a leisurely reminiscence; I'd like to share some wonderful moments with you . . .

The high point of summer was to have been a sail up the coast of New England with an old school friend. Pete and I had sailed together often before; this time we'd chartered a Cape Dory 31 and arranged to be away from our jobs for two weeks. You may know the Cape Dory, Lil? A very seaworthy sailboat, plenty of room below with bunks for five, a single mast with mainsail and two foresails, built sturdy enough to take you across the Atlantic if you want. The engine could make about six knots: OK for getting in and out of a dock, but not much good for going anywhere. She was six tons of sailor's boat!

We had taken ownership and stowed away our provisions on board in the dawn light, and we were almost ready to cast off . . . when Pete's phone rang.

Well, (I'm sure you've guessed, way ahead of me, I'm useless at telling stories!) his mother had been rushed to hospital in Arizona . . . Pete had to run for the first airplane!

As Pete drove off, he leaned out the window and shouted: "Go alone, Pent", (a Cape Dory that size *can* be sailed single-handed by an experienced person), "or take anyone!"

It felt as though the clock had stopped: I was really down and went off to a sidewalk restaurant to think what to do. I got a table outside; it was like one of those places in Vail or Aspen: the waitresses were all college students wearing sneakers, khaki shorts and a white shirt. Any girl looks good dressed like that, but the one who came to my table that morning was a peach!

She had fair hair and the honey-colored silky-smooth skin of the Scandinavian or South African. Her face had pleasantly rounded cheeks (and so did her bottom!); her eyes were grey, intelligent and full of fun! She was about five foot four with a trim figure: looked as though she worked-out regularly.

Name was on the shirt, and I asked her: "Nicki, a coffee and croissant, please". When she brought them I took my life in both hands and asked: "Nicki. Do you sail, Nicki?"

She must have detected the urgency in my voice: "If that storm came over us" she replied, pointing to a black thunder cloud on the horizon, "I'd raise the storm jib, reef the main, batten the hatches and keep her head-on to the wind".

"Picked up a Cape Dory 31 this morning; two-week charter to cruise this New England coast with my buddy, but he had a family crisis. You like to come? Can you possibly get away, Nicki?" trying not to sound absolutely idiotic.

"I was fired an hour ago!" Nicki said "I just have to work out this shift and I'll be free at noon."

"What happened?" I asked, feeling suddenly cautious . . .

"The owner said I sassed him. Maybe I did. He's an idiot!"

"Nicki, if you sass me on the boat, I won't fire you; I'll put you over my knee and give you a spanking you will never forget!"

"Sounds like the school I was at!", she said, flushing a bit and with a fleeting look of pain in her eye at the memory. "There's one thing, though: I'm not very experienced, vagina intacta and all that sort of thing. You must give me your word that won't change in the two weeks!" she demanded, her eyes showing real concern.

"On my honor, Nicki! You will return every bit as intact as you went! We are going to have a wonderful fortnight; you'll love the New England coast!

"You need to be making some money in place of your job here; how about $500 clear for each week; all expenses paid. Okay? This is for my breakfast and any extra kit you may want for the boat". I gave her $200 in 20's. "Can I pick you up on the corner with your bags at one?"

"Sure can! What's your name, skipper?"

"Pentland; Pent to you. And, Nicki, there's just one thing you need to do before I pick you up: have a crap! Our holding tank needs all the help we can give it". We were going to be tripping over each other for the next two weeks: just as well to be on easy terms about intimate basics right from the start!

"Aye, aye, skipper", Nicki grinned, and walked away from my table almost dancing with anticipation. We were off on the right foot!

Our departure went smoothly. Nicki knew sailboats I could see from the way she inspected the jibs, engine, jury tiller and so on. She opened her suitcase to stow away the contents: it seemed to hold little outside of shorts, slacks, T-shirts, cotton underwear, a new windbreaker, dop bag . . . and a well-cuddled teddy bear.

We cast off half an hour later. It was ideal weather; blue sky with a twenty knot breeze from the south. We cleared the harbor on the engine, then set an easterly course up the Sound towards Milford.

We talked as the breeze moved us smoothly along, discretely probing each other's backgrounds. Nicki had been to a girls' boarding school and was now at Cambridge living in Newnham, the last of the women-only colleges. She had done well, reading modern history in her freshman year, and planned more of the same, heading for a career in the United Nations.

Nicki'd taken up swimming "to keep my weight down, in spite of the Fudge Kitchen on KP", and had joined The Union for their political debates and nice parties.

Her mother was from South Africa (so I had been right about her complexion!); Daddy was "something in the city" (London); they lived in Brighton and her favorite fun there was to crew for friends on their sailboats. She had sailed right around Britain one summer. "Mummy says my sailing friends are all such nice people; it's a pity but she and Daddy have never sailed themselves!" Nicki was over in USA with student-friends from Newnham college, earning pocket money for the coming year; she'd left a message on the telephone for one of them, saying she would be back in two weeks after sailing up the New England coast, "so they won't worry about me, Pent!"

I told Nicki how that I'd been at Cambridge too, some years before, and I'd got my Master's in science . . . in spite of being on the university judo team and having a riotous social life.

Nicki took the wheel from me and I went below to check the operation of the shower and the head: both Okay! I came up to take the boat into Milford and we docked there without a hitch; we went ashore for a shower; Nicki washed some things and returned to the boat to hang them out. I went on to a bar where she joined me later.

We found a little restaurant where we ate and talked about plans for the next day: I knew a place called Duck Island, about 30 miles further along the coast, a mile offshore, with breakwaters to give shelter for boats that dropped anchor. We could moor there for the night, "away from all this civilization". I showed the island to Nicki on the chart which I'd brought along and she thought it sounded great!

We turned in at nine that night, ready for an early start, me doing my best all the time to act like her big brother. We didn't need riding lights, moored in port, of course; I made all fast on deck before following Nicki below. She was already in her bunk (with her teddy!) when I came down and stripped to my skivvies. Just before putting the out the light, I went over and kissed Nicki on the forehead and wished her "Sweet dreams, Nicki, my dear. It's wonderful that you were able to come!" She gave a contented smile and gurgling sound: "Thanks for asking me, Pent!"

As I lay drowsing off to sleep, I wondered how come Nicki, at 19, was still a virgin cuddling a teddy bear. She had been to a girls' school, of course . . . and all the boys she knew had probably been to boys' schools . . . it's the way wealthy Brits cut down on baby-making amongst their kids, reinforced by them seeing the occasional pregnant miscreant who is simply whisked away and vanishes from view for ever . . . some boys get actively interested in other boys, and girls in girls . . . but most never grow beyond pleasuring themselves until their twenties, when the force of their early conditioning starts to lose its grip on them . . .

I would explore what Nicki was happy to do by seeing her reactions to double entendres and likely situations . . . the signs of "go" were usually very clear: I remembered girls who had stood and just shaken like an aspen leaf the first time when they were ready and willing. We could always spend a seductive evening dining with candlelight and good wines at one of the better restaurants along this coast . . . patience! . . . patience!! . . . and after all that, Nicki might not be happy with me doing any more this whole fortnight than pleasure her with my tongue, of course . . .

We went ashore in the morning to get cleaned up. We got coffee and doughnuts to go, and cast off at eight, with another good day of sailing weather. We made it to Duck Island about four in the afternoon. The anchorage, with breakwaters to shelter us from the seas, *was* good, but this "roughing it" in open water is not a popular way to spend the night, and no other boats were there: exactly what I'd hoped.

The sea was fairly calm; we lowered the ladder and dived in for a swim . . . skinny dipping. Nicki's budding breasts nearly needed a bra but not quite, and she had a beautifully rounded bottom. She swam like a fish and enjoyed throwing her legs up in the air while she swam and diving to explore the bottom; the water was only about ten foot deep and I joined her down there, and we explored the sea bed together, me acting strictly brotherly!

It was wonderfully refreshing, and we came out raring for food. Nicki showered first then, while I had my shower, she cooked the supper: fried bratwurst and instant-mashed-potato! We ate below in the cabin and washed the food down with beer, and sat comfortably digesting afterwards, reading magazines.

After half an hour or so: "Right!" I said, "I'll write up the log; you wash up!"

"I cooked! The least you can do is wash up, Pent!", and I saw Nicki's face was slightly flushed and her chin seemed to stick out a bit as she glared at me.

"I'm not surprised you got fired!", I said, "*That* is sass! You know what I said before you came aboard. Come over here, Nicki". I was not going to give her any second chance: she might apologize and *do* the washing up! "If I have to fetch you, it'll be much worse for you!"

"*You* should do the washing up, Pent!", frowning, and her face a bit redder and her chin stuck out even more.

I got up and wrapped my arms around Nicki so she could not escape, then lifted her bodily up and over my knees as I sat down again on my stool: I had six inches more in height than Nicki, which made it easy for me: "You didn't come when I told you to! That means you get it on your bare bottom!", as I unhitched her waist buckle and pulled her shorts and panties down to her ankles.

"Nooo! nooo! you bully! that's not faaair!", she shouted, but not too loudly: another boat could pass near us at any time, and she knew it!

Chapter 2

I held Nicki down firmly with my left arm and grabbed her free wrist, and started to spank her rear end, lightly at first, and then I began to wallop her harder. She was soon shouting: "Nooo! Oh nooo! Nooo! Oh stop! I didn't mean it! Nooo!"

The cheeks of Nicki's bottom were bouncing with each smack. They had begun as silky honey-colored globes; now they were beginning to get red, and redder! It was a wonderful erotic sight, and a wild sensation as her bare midriff squirmed and pressed against my legs.

My cock was quickly rigid and pressing through my shorts up against Nicki's mons; no question, she was loving this and was getting tumescent and wet, rubbing her clit on my rock-hard cock as I continued to spank . . . quite hard: enough to keep feeding her rising excitement while her bottom got more and more red and her squirming around became violently agitated. Suddenly, after a long time of spanking, Nicki went stiff with just her pelvis jerking up and down against my hard cock, shouting as she did it: "Ooooh, Pent! Pent! Pent! Pent! Pent! Pent! Pent! . . ."

Then Nicki collapsed limp on my lap, and I stopped.

When she began to un-tense herself, I said with mock seriousness: "Well, I think you will remember this spanking, Nicki! Any time you sass me, I'll punish you the same way again! And maybe I'll do it sometimes even if you *don't* sass me, just for the good of your soul! Now let me try and take some of the pain away". And I started to gently massage Nicki's lovely red bottom.

I'd seen a bottle of baby-oil in her things, and reached over for it. "Rubbing with this is even better for a red bottom!", and I poured a little of the oil on her scarlet cheeks and rubbed them very lightly . . . and she started to give appreciative moans.

After rubbing Nicki's bottom gently all over with the oil, I poured some directly down into the cleft between her lovely cheeks and followed it with a finger. I first gently circled her lips, then moved my finger right across them with a lingering touch . . . and drew a deep approving "Ooooh!" as Nicki shook with a slight tremor under my hands.

I spent the next half hour in delicate seductive massage of her bottom. Using both hands now, I gently pushed and probed at her lips, then moved away across the delectable curves of her derriere, around the sides of her cheeks, down along the lines where the back of her thighs met her bottom, down between her legs to brush along her labia and up to her clitoris, which had her gasping, then back to push gently on her nether lips again . . . a little more firmly each time I returned to that spot. Nicki's sighs and moans told me that she found her greatest pleasure as my thumb pressed on her firm little anus... her tightly closed lips... her coral flower.

I was talking all the time about the best way to sail into the different ports on this northeast coast: a person will often let you do the most outrageous things to them, as you know Lily, as long as you keep up a flow of talk about something completely different! And darkness was falling outside: we could only just see each other now in the cabin.

I was slowly able to gain an entrance, after about half an hour of persistent massage and pressure with my probing thumb. Plenty of baby oil was the answer, and I was eventually able to slide easily back and fore, in and out of her delicious rotundity.

"Lie up on the wide bunk, Nicki; we can remove the pain even better there!" and she gave a compliant grunt, smiling up at me as she moved.

I slid out of my clothes and slathered plenty of the baby-oil onto my yard and lay gently on top of Nicki. I slid into her warm bottom slowly by moving myself up towards her head: this way, my yard went into her right up along the line of her rectum. I went in very slowly, making sure Nicki was happy with me being inside her heavenly bottom at every stage as my yard slid in, pulled out, then slid back in again, a bit further each time.

At last, after what seemed ages spent in carefully relaxing Nicki's coral lips, I had slid right in up to the hilt. And Nicki was lying under me, moving her bottom around sensuously and giving deep-throated murmurs of delight!

When I had first gone as far in as I could, and my pelvis was pressed firmly against the sensuous twin cushions of her beautiful bottom, Nicki turned her face over her shoulder and said: "Oooh! That gives a gorgeous feeling that goes right through me, Pent. It's maaaarvelous!"

My yard was such a snug fit inside Nicki's tight warm bottom that I had the greatest difficulty to stop from ejaculating as soon as I had slid all the way into her. It felt as if Nicki's seductive bottom was sucking my yard in, and making to milk me of my semen!

"You are the most lovely girl I've ever known, Nicki!", I replied as I kissed her warm face.

By staying completely still for minutes at a time, I managed to prolong our ecstasy for almost half an hour. Then I felt Nicki's breath start to come in short gasps, and she trembled all over. As Nicki surged towards her second orgasm, I no longer held onto my pounding urges and let fly with spasm after spasm of semen shooting up into Nicki's angelic bottom. This triggered her joy, and Nicki was giving great deep-throated shouts of primitive triumph as she came... no matter if there were other boats near us or not!

I pulled a blanket over the top of us, and we fell asleep just as we were, with Nicki cuddled from behind in my arms. I woke later in the night, made everything secure and shut the hatch: I had thought to put on the riding lights *before* we ate, knowing the open invitation that I hoped this mooring would be to Nicki.

And the previous night I had been wondering how to find out what Nicki would be happy to let me to do!

Chapter 3

We both awoke early but there was no rush and I made tea which Nicki enjoyed before rising. In reply to my question before she went into the head, Nicki said she did not have a douche in her kit, and I gave her a new Auto-Spares battery dispenser; its rubber bulb held nearly a cup-full. A bit crude, but it would serve to wash inside her bottom with warm water. She thanked me profusely with a rather bashful smile, and I told her to keep it . . . "as she might find it handy to have".

When it was my turn, I shaved my chin carefully and showered. While I was in there I could hear Nicki washing the dishes from the night before (!) and I could smell coffee brewing for breakfast.

We'd had a good dinner the night before, so made do with corn flakes for breakfast with the excellent brew of coffee that Nicki had made. The wind had turned more westerly, with the same clear sky, so we raised anchor and set our course to the east again, towards the mouth of the Connecticut river: we planned to go up the river about six miles and tie up in a marina for the night at Essex.

Nicki took the wheel while I loafed around, reading the Loran position indicator and the sea chart, to keep clear of the rocks in that bit of the Sound. Nicki was quiet as she worked the wheel, keeping the boat on course; at last she asked: "Pent! What we did last night: is it safe? I mean, could it have made me pregnant?" I quickly stepped over beside her and put an arm round her shoulder, holding her tight: "Nicki my love, I would never do anything that could possibly do that to you! There is no way through from one place to the other; it is completely safe!"

Nicki was so relieved to hear this that she turned her head and gave me a quick warm kiss. "Pent, I'm so glad! It was more wonderful than anything that's ever happened to me! Why have I never heard about doing it this way before?"

"I don't know, Nicki! I think most people hear some schoolteacher explain how babies are made, 'The Facts of Life', and never hear anything else. I can't claim any special genius, though; when I was seventeen, the people next door had an older daughter who was always going to dances in London. She came over and found me alone in our house one wonderful rainy day, and taught me how to do it this way: no hurry, lots of lubricant, and very gently! She would never have sex any other way: called it "Virgin's Ecstacy", "VX" for short. So it wasn't my invention; but not many people know about it, or learn to do it right if they have heard! Now, I'd better do some serious work with the chart: there are a few rocks in this part of the Sound".

I found our position with the Loran electronic gadget, and saw we were heading for trouble. "Nicki, quick, change course to 160 degrees!"

"One six zero she is, skipper!" Nicki repeated crisply as she turned the wheel. As the boat swung round we saw slight surges in the sea, showing there were rocks near the surface... right in our old course. I made a resolve to keep checking our position on the chart in the future, even while I was enjoying Nicki's talk!

Nicki quickly started to bubble again with good humor after this worry of hers had been laid to rest: the excitement of the previous evening and a good night's sleep combined to work their magic.

She got to describing her life as a student at Cambridge. The greatest differences for students since I'd been an undergraduate there seemed to be a much more natural freedom between the male and female students, and less of the petty discipline like having to wear black academic gowns in the streets from 6 pm onwards.

It was delightful to hear Nicki chattering on about her life there. Her tutor, supervisors and lecturers all came in for comments: some admiring, but mostly amusing and caustic. The coffee-houses, river and punts, pubs and social clubs all seemed unchanged.

We made the mouth of the Connecticut river and entered between the two long breakwaters with our engine going: it was about two hours after low water and the flow of the river was just starting to slow with the incoming tide. The rail bridge was open and we went upstream with sail and engine past Old Lyme and Saybrook to Essex.

I remembered the warning I'd been given in the bar at Milford: "If the river is running fast at Essex, wait until the incoming tide slows it down before you try to enter the marina, else the river under the pilings will ram you into other boats there". There is an island in the river opposite the town of Essex; I explained the situation to Nicki, and we went in behind the island and dropped anchor to wait for the turn of the tide. The island hid us completely from the town, and we were nicely secluded.

I suggested sandwiches, and Nicki made some from the cold cuts we'd brought, while I made things ship-shape on deck. With three or four hours to wait, there was no rush, and we washed our lunch down with beer, sitting in the cockpit, enjoying the warmth.

Our mood was mellow in the afternoon sun. "I can't spank you with so many boats around, even if you give me the excuse!", I said, "Come and stand over here beside me and I'll introduce you to a little-known byway of English history that may be useful when you get back to Cambridge this autumn", and Nicki came and stood beside where I was sitting, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"When I was at Cambridge I had friends who were reading modern history, like you", I said, sliding my hand lightly up her leg. "In their second year, they had to select a subject for Special Study. One of these was the life and doings of Sir Thomas Hervey, who kept a diary around 1670 while he was in the court of Charles II and explains all the intrigues and politics that were going on then in Britain.

"This Sir Thomas led an incredibly sensuous life", I said as I ran my hand around in the smooth hollow of her left cheek. "His stories of wild sexual encounters run right through his diaries". Nicki had put her feet apart by this time and I followed this invitation by moving my hand between her legs to fondle there.

"One of his most amusing descriptions is the technique he often used that he calls 'Hervey's Delight'. I know you'll love it, and it will *greatly* help you to understand what he was writing about, if you should choose him as your subject for Special Study this autumn.

"First thing, you want to make your bottom squeaky clean inside as well as out. I'd take the pan of water that's been heating to wash the dishes, (they can wait for a bit!), and mix in cold until it's just nicely warm to your hand. Then use that rubber bulb and rinse your bottom out several times! As Sir Thomas wrote: "Ye maide doth apply an smalle clyster many a tyme, until ye outpouring be an fitte drink for ye King!"

"Then take all your things off and lie on the bunk. Remember, it's all in the cause of helping your history studies!"

I gave Nicki's bottom a final squeeze. She grinned at the bit of humor ending my monologue and her eyes alight with expectation, she went below with "Aye aye, Tutor!"

About twenty minutes later I heard: "Well, where is this Sir Tomas Harvy? I can't wait around all day, you know!"

I went below too, shutting the hatch after me. "You need to lie face down for this", I said, "And move up the bunk; I have to be at the other end! Here, put this pillow under your middle so your bottom is up in the air a bit!"

I took my own clothes off and got on the bunk too, and bent to kiss the silky-smooth cheeks of Nicki's honey-colored bottom, then I began to nibble with my teeth and suck and lick . . . with appreciative noises and making comments each time I came up for breath: "Ummmm! Loooovely! Ooooh! You're absolutely goooorgeous! Ummm!" Slowly I worked down into her cleft and separated Nicki's legs with my hands as my tongue worked towards its target.

As my tongue lapped and licked around Nicki's coral lips I said "Mmmm! You have a lovely sweet aroma, Nicki! You taste deliiicious! You have a most exotic perfume!!", and she let out almighty moans of pleasure. I'd hit the spot!

I did not rush my entrance to Nicki's lovely bottom; I lingered long and lovingly at the entrance. My tongue fondled Nicki's coral lips and caressed them playfully. At last I let the tip probe its way inside her bottom and I massaged her tender and sensitive parts there.

After a bit I had Nicki pull her knees up under her, "So I can go further in!" And of course I did: a lot further in! Far enough in to massage Nicki's vagina through the wall of her rectum . . . and I circled my arm round to play with her clitoris.

We enjoyed Hervey's Delight together for a long time. Then I had Nicki lie flat on the bunk again and I reached for the baby oil and began to massage Nicki's entrance with my thumb. She knew what to expect, and I did not disappoint her . . . or myself! I slowly sank my yard into Nicki's heavenly bottom, with many a reversal of direction and all the time plunging further into her.

Nicki was less tense than the previous night: she knew what was coming, (no pun intended), and that she would enjoy it immensely! After I had slid my yard all the way into her bottom, and had her firm young cheeks pressing hard against my pelvis, her face was aflame with excitement. But suddenly she said, "Pent, get up off me!"

I didn't know what was wrong or what was coming next . . . I slowly withdrew my red-hot yard. Then she rolled off the bunk from under me to stand on the floor. "You lie on your back for a change, Pent; let's try it this way!" she demanded.

With some trepidation I turned myself over and lay back on the bunk and, bless me if Nicki didn't kneel on top with her knees on either side of me! She was facing me and she sloooooowly lowered herself onto my yard! She looked wonderful, her face deeply flushed with excitement and her eyes sparkling as she looked down into mine, as she moved up and down to work my yard back inside her bottom. After long and careful maneuvering, Nicki had at last completely impaled herself on my yard and the whole length of it was inside her lovely bottom as she sat firmly down on top of me.

Nicki rested there, seeming to savor the situation, and said: "Pent this is absolutely heavenly! Your cock completely fills me! I'm sure it's gone further in than ever and I've had to stretch a bit in there to be able to fit all of it inside me! There is no room in my bottom for even another millimeter! I feel absolutely replete! Pent, this is better than having a first class dinner filling me!"

"Nicki, you are too exciting; do just stay like that for a few minutes, completely still, so I can hold my fire! . . ."

Some minutes later after regaining some control I said "Okay, Nicki, try moving gently." Then Nicki began to slowly move up and down, wriggling her bottom back and fore and side to side as she did. This pressed my yard in different ways inside her bottom, as she explored her sensations. At one point she tried leaning back; in the end her body lay flat on the bunk behind her; this bent my yard almost painfully, but it also gave her what must have been wonderfully hard pressure against the wall of her vagina, and I was gently fingering her clit at the same time. Her sighs and moans said it all!

I had to ask Nicki several times to stop moving, or I would have lost everything!

But in the end there was no stopping her: Nicki had a wild orgasm, like the night before, drawing my semen up into her bottom at the same time in great gushing spurts as she shouted: "Pent!! Ooooooh! Pent! You are pumping right up into me!! Oooooh! It's wooooonderful!!"

When our first ecstasy was past I sat up, still stiff inside her, and held Nicki to me, pressing her breasts against my chest as we kissed and fondled each other for a very long time.

We made it over to the marina at Essex to moor for the night. We did some shopping for provisions, including several bottles of baby-oil. This last started Nicki giggling uncontrollably and we went back to put things away on board while she simmered down a bit. Then we went and found a first class restaurant called The Griswold Inn for dinner. (You can find all these places in the Waterway Guide, Lily. It's a bit more tour-oriented than the U.S.Coast Pilot). Nicki at dinner by candlelight that evening was radiant from our exercises, and in very high spirits! We sank together into the double bunk that night and slept in each other's arms without moving until morning.

Chapter 4

Nicki and I worked our way in this manner up the north-east coast as far as Martha's Vineyard, then back via Block Island and Gardiner's Bay. It was fun talking with Nicki about history and present-day politics. Her understanding, of course, tended to be a sanitized school-teacher version. It was most enjoyable to open her eyes to lesser-known evidence of motivations that had been driving events. She was a quick learner, (as I had already found!), had a prodigious memory and enjoyed using her mind.

Every night we ate well, often from lobster, shrimp, oysters or steak, and we moored sometimes at a marina, but it was more fun for us when we entered a port during the day to buy our dinner, then went and found an anchorage for the night without other boats around where we could be our own uninhibited selves, skinny-dipping . . and so on . . .

Nicki had sassed me a few times along the way, with the consequences that I'd promised to her . . . At one of our lone anchorages, the sun was just setting, a full moon was rising. A pleasantly warm breeze came lightly from the south; any boat would, like ours, have its lights showing, and none were in sight. That evening was late into our second and last week; we were standing on deck near the mast . . . and Nicki sassed me yet again . . .

The mainsail and jibs were down, of course, as we rode at anchor. This left the mast as an unencumbered metal shaft, rising into the warm night sky, with only the halyard lines and some flag-hoists of smoothly braided nylon, as thick as your finger, running up along the length of the mast. Each one passed up and over a pulley at the top, and down again to the cleat that fastened it at the foot of the mast.

Nicki had hardly got her sassy words out when I grabbed her wrists and quickly had them tied together with my belt of soft leather. I looped the end of the belt around the mast and tied it back on itself; that left her able to move her wrists up and down the mast as the loop of leather belt slid along the metal shaft. She was struggling around, jerking wrists up and down on the mast, sticking her bottom out and in again and kicking her legs around: but she could not move far!

I just said: "Right Nicki, you know what happens when you sass me! It'll be a bit different this time, though! This will be a spanking like you have never dreamed of!" and I left Nicki there to stew for a bit and went below. She was fuming when I got back, but stopped swearing when curiosity overcame her as she saw my briefcase. I started by releasing the mainsail halyard and fastened the shackle to the leather ties at her wrists; then I pulled on the other end of the halyard: instead of pulling up the mainsail, it pulled Nicki's wrists up the mast!

I laid my briefcase flat on the deck, and told Nicki to step onto it as I continued to yank on the halyard. Her wrists were pulled up the mast by this rope which went up to the top; it went through a pulley there and came down again to the end that I was tugging at: she *had* to step up onto the briefcase, which placed her at the height above the deck that I wanted her . . . but I'm sure she did not yet have any idea *why* I wanted her on this little platform! When Nicki's wrists were at the height I wanted them, I fastened the rope back on its cleat at the foot of the mast. I completely ignored her shouts of "Beast! Bully! What are you going to dooo to me? Bluebeard! Ohhhhh! You're horrrrible!!"

Next, down came her shorts and panties, and I began to give her the spanking that she fully expected. The difference this time was that I cupped my hand and made it come up from below her bottom. The cheeks of her bottom were even lovelier with her being upright: their weight pulled them down slightly to accentuate their beautiful curves.

As I spanked, her lovely orbs bounced upwards with each blow and I could see the shock waves travel up through the rotundity of her bottom. I knew the same exciting shock waves were pounding up inside her pelvis too. Nicki was squirming and wriggling against the mast and the braided ropes that traveled up it.

Nicki's cries rang out loud and clear across the water, and I was keeping a sharp look-out for boats' lights: "Nooo! I diiidn't mean it! Stoooop! You're a beeeeast! Ohhhh!" She was wriggling around all the time and sticking her bottom out away from the mast then pressing back hard against the ropes. I thought Nicki might fall off the briefcase, but her hands were tied too far up the mast for that.

At last she howled: "Pent! I'm soooory! Pleeese stooop! I'm sooory! I'm sooorry!! Pleeese!" and her bottom was very warm by then.

She always said "Sorry" when she really wanted me to stop, and I did stop and stood beside her gently rubbing the rosy cheeks of her bottom, as I made soothing noises, saying: "I do wish you wouldn't sass me, Nicki. I *have* to spank you for your own good. You know how I hate having to do it! Let me try and sooth the pain, now you have said you are sorry". And I heard Nicki's gurgling laugh, in spite of her tears, at what I'd said.

Then I dropped to my knees on the deck and began to kiss her darling bottom and suck and nibble . . . I soon had my face buried into her cleft; I just came up at intervals for air, then rammed my face back in again as my tongue flicked like a humming-bird's in and out of her honey pot.

Nicki was becoming more and more aroused with this prolonged sensuous treatment. I could hear her breath coming in gasps as she wriggled around pressing herself against the ropes on the mast. At last she was jerking around so much that it took all the strength in my hands and neck to stop her escaping from my pursuing tongue, and she exploded into an ecstatic orgasm: her gasps and shouts must have been clearly audible across the water a mile away.

I stood up behind her and held Nicki close. My arms were around her and the mast, and I supported her while she gradually got calmer. At this point I took the bottle of baby oil from my pocket and removed my own pants. I knelt again on the deck and started to stroke Nicki's bottom with the oil on my fingers.

She began again to grind herself against the ropes on the mast as my thumb slowly worked its way into her bottom. I poured plenty of the oil on my rock-hard yard and stood up again behind Nicki; it was then she realized the purpose of the briefcase: it put her at exactly the right height for me to slide my yard slooooowly up into her bottom!

When I had finally slid my yard all the way in, as far as I could go, and I was pressing against Nicki's warm bottom, and she was hard against the ropes on the mast, she murmured: "Oh, Pent! That is sooo wonderful! Just stay still and hold me tightly! I want to remember this moment forever!" and I did as she asked. Only after a long time to savor the moment, many minutes later, did I start to move my yard slooowly in and out of her bottom.

As I thrust up into Nicki's bottom each time, I pressed my pelvis hard against her lovely hot cheeks and moved from side to side to rub her against those ropes on the mast. Even quicker than usual I could feel Nicki start to shake and shudder and jerk in erratic spasms, and she began to make those strange animal noises of hers low down in her throat as her excitement rose in her second orgasm and I came with her as we joined together in primitive priapic roars of wild ecstatic pleasure which traveled for miles across the still night sea!

Chapter 5

The day before we were due to return the sailboat at the end of the charter, we made it back to our home port. We sailed into the Norwalk River and tied up at a sea-food restaurant where you can moor your boat while you go ashore to eat there. Being a bit early for dinner we were able to get a table at the edge of the dock, in the warm evening air, so we could watch the water traffic. Nicki had been a bit glum all day, so I asked if she would like wine with dinner instead of our usual beer, to celebrate our wonderful vacation together, and she perked up a bit at the idea.

I ordered a white Chamard, which came from a nearby vineyard at Clinton, Connecticut: a reasonable medium-dry wine, and the label would soak off to make Nicki an unusual souvenir back in Britain! It was a leisurely dinner but not a heavy one as we enjoyed the chowder, lobsters caught that day, and topped off with a Quantro fresh-fruit salad. We sat long with our coffee, reminiscing over the past two weeks and the ports we'd visited, and talking about Nicki's expectations for her coming term at Cambridge.

As I fixed the bill, Nicki went and took rather a long time in the head: she had taken with her the little shoulder-bag I'd got her in Essex, before leaving her at a pharmacy to fill it with toilet things for our regular trips to the bathrooms and showers ashore. . .

The evening was warm and calm, and I'd planned for us to moor for our last night inside the islands that were dotted along the coast near the mouth of the river, and we set off downstream to find ourselves a good spot for the night.

Once the boat was securely anchored we went below and started to pack things ready for leaving the boat tomorrow. Nicki finished doing her things and sat down, looking glum again and at a loose end. I said: "Nicki! There is an offense in the British Army, when you give your superior officer just the sort of look you are giving me now, called Silent Insubordination! It's a charge that's impossible to disprove, and there is no known defense against it! How does the prisoner plead: Guilty or Not-Guilty?"

"You're a brute!" came the answer.

"Prisoner elects not to plead. I hereby pass sentence: twenty five spanks while lying across the cabin table. MOVE to position, NOW!"

Nicki didn't stir . . . I reached over, wrapped my arms around and lifted her up before she could go anywhere and laid her over the cabin table with her legs dangling to the floor. "You know the penalty for failing to obey!", and yanked her pants down, "On the bare bottom it is! Now, we'll put this pillow underneath you over the edge of the table; I must not be accused of returning damaged goods tomorrow!"

All this time Nicki was showering me with epithets, thick and fast: "This is just like boarding school again! . . . You beast! . . .Ohhh! How can you treat a poor defenseless girl this way!? . . I didn't *do* anything! . . . Let me go!! . . . You ogre! . . . Marquis de Sade! . . You've done nothing but beat me every day we've been afloat! . . . It hurts! . . . Ohhhh! . . ."

As I started to administer her spanking, words dissolved into incoherent shouts of pain each time my hand landed on Nicki's lovely round bottom. She kicked her legs around, but I held her body firmly down on the table, not so firmly though as to stop her wriggling around against that pillow under her middle!

I kept up an even pace of chastisement, about one every ten seconds or so, and my spanks got harder as it went on. I was in a good position to see Nicki's reddening face as well as her reddening bottom. Tears had come to her eyes almost as soon as I had started to spank, and she was soon weeping freely. The pillow at her other end was becoming even wetter as she squirmed around on it and pounded herself against the edge of the table.

At last I said: "Twenty-five!" (not really knowing how many spanks I'd given her!) as Nicki seemed to have had about the right amount of excitement. "I'm feeling merciful so I'll help the prisoner to recover from her beating", I said as I swung down onto the floor behind Nicki's bottom and applied my tongue gently to her flaming cheeks. She flinched away from me again and again, but she could not go far: she just pounded herself hard against the pillow on the table edge!

As I kissed and licked and sucked I gently spread Nicki's legs apart so my tongue could reach in towards its goal. As the tip made soothing moves across her delicate lips she stopped jerking about and lay still on the table-top and slowly began to almost purr with pleasure. Her encouragement became louder as my tongue slowly began to enter her, flicking in and out of her entrance. "Ohhh! That's woooonderful!" she was gurgling: "Dooo go on, Pent!!", and she curved her back so her bottom stuck up in the air and I could press more easily into her.

Nicki's unique personal aroma was irresistible to me; I was afraid she would get bored with my lengthy enjoyment of her bottom with my tongue, but instead she seemed to get more excited by the minute! In the end I stopped and reached for our old friend the bottle of baby oil. But this time I used the oil only enough to lubricate her and did not even try to probe with my fingers: I knew we would both experience heightened sensations this last time together if Nicki's muscles had *not* been greatly relaxed before my weapon entered her . . .

I stood and put plenty of oil on my yard, and placed the tip in the center of her coral lips. I was just about to press firmly against them to ease my way in, when Nicki shouted: "No! Stop! Stop!!"

I supposed Nicki was going to insist on a more prolonged relaxation of her entrance before I tried to go in. Not a bit though! Nicki straightened up and told me: "Just this once, let *me* make it go in the first time! *You* lie on the bunk and *I'll* be on top!"

I wasn't at all sure Nicki could manage to do it: not only is it always the trickiest part, that first entry, particularly for a novice, but I had relaxed her muscles hardly at all, much less than usual! I was greatly concerned that this last night of ours together should not end in failure and disappointment for both of us which would cloud the memory of our whole time together on the sailboat which had been so wonderful . . . so far!

But Nicki wasn't about to argue the point: so I got up and lay on the bunk and she knelt astride me, just like the first time we had done it this way back at Essex. Only this time, she was going to give that first "push"! Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, and I figured she had been planning this: Nicki knew if she was able to manage this first entry herself, then she could make it happen with a boyfriend back in Britain who had no experience of Virgin's Ecstasy! What her plans had failed to take into account, though, was that I would have done so little to relax her muscles on this last night of ours!

Nicki showed how much she'd learned in our two weeks together: she added more baby oil to my already-slick weapon, then she lowered herself so the tip was just pressing against her lips, and she started to rock back and fore and side to side . . . as she pressed with her weight down on my cock.

I was ready for the worst, a painful failure by Nicki to achieve her goal, and started to make plans for smoothing over the situation. However I murmured encouraging phrases: "Keep rocking side to side! Push down inside you, like you were having a crap! . . . Try to open your bottom . . . Lift up and come down again . . Up and down . . . try side to side again . . . up and down . . . side to side . . . That's it!!! . . I'm starting to slide in!! It's going in, Nicki!! . . Take it gently! Pull out a bit . . Now go a bit further down! Out again . . Now fuuurther down! Make sure your lover lies still: don't let him push up into you! Jab him with your fingernails if you have to! Nicki!! . . . That's absolutely wonderful!! . . . Nicki, you *are* clever you know! . . ."

After what seemed an age, Nicki was finally sitting firmly down on my loins with the whole of my yard inside her! She sat there, triumphant eyes twinkling at me and grinning, so proud of herself! And well she might be: it's a most difficult thing to do for a tyro . . . and she knew she could now enjoy the Virgin's Ecstasy anywhere she went!

My own pleasure was ecstatic! My sensations as Nicki was accomplishing the entry of the full length of my yard into her tight and luscious bottom had been delirious, and continued to be paradisical, cloud nine, out of this world . . . It was hard for me to stop an immediate orgasm: "Keep completely still, Nicki! Don't bat an eyelid, think of trigonometry or something, or I'll lose everything! What's co-sign aye minus bee? You would make a marble statue ejaculate!", and gradually I was able to withdraw from the edge . . . . and regain a little control.

The other thing Nicki was dying to do, I knew, was what she had also first done at Essex: when at last I said she could move again she leaned back then forward again, and then back further and further each time, in stages until she was resting almost horizontal, propped up by her elbows on the bunk between my legs! "Ooooh! That is incredible!" she moaned, and continued to moan as she sat up then lay back again, and again, and again... this was almost too much for me, but I told her when to stop moving for a bit to let me to recover a bit of my control . . .

At last she sat up and said: "I'm going to lie down underneath you again, Pent", as she raised herself up off me and stood on the floor, "That's the way I really want to remember you my dear Pent! With your cock right up inside and with all your weight pressing down on top of me!". Nicki pushed me over and prostrated herself on the bunk for me to lie on top and slide myself up toward her head so my yard entered smoothly straight up into her rectum and became completely embedded in her embuggered bottom.

I raised my weight slightly from her and reached underneath to her tumescent mons and gently felt for Nicki's clitoris, then let my weight resume its pressure on her. "Let's lie still, so I don't lose everything!" I said, and we stayed thus for what seemed a heavenly age.

Nicki's excitement was growing all the time though and at last she could stay it no longer. I could feel her rising agitation and I began to give deep slow thrusts in and out of her wonderfully sensuous bottom as she wriggled from side to side underneath me. This quickly brought us both to tempestuous orgasms together at the same time with sensations that made the climax of the "1812" sound like Tinker Bell!

In the morning, we upped anchor and sailed the short leg to the agent's dock and checked in the sailboat there.

Dear Nicki had to leave to stay for a week at some prestigious place of learning, as arranged by her Tutor in Cambridge. She had only time for me to march her into a photographer's shop and have a quick portrait taken, which I was to pick up later in the day . . . a lovely, happy picture of Nicki, but it was not, of course, the view I really wanted!

I drove Nicki to the limo station where I handed over travel checks to the amount we'd agreed, and I reminded Nicki: "Well, I kept my part of the bargain: you are still vagina intacta!" "Yes", she said, "We virgins need to be so careful who we are alone with! Families of some fiances insist on a doctor's inspection before they approve and give a house. Pent, you're wonderful! Let me know if you are coming to over to Merrie Olde; my email is nfk33@hermes....." (I should have written it down!!), and went up on her tip-toes to give me a last long warm hug and kiss.

Nicki was going back to be surrounded by hundreds of her young contemporaries. She would have wild fun, I knew, and delight male student friends by practicing her new-found skills with them.

For me, it was a bitter-sweet parting: our walks of life are so totally different that I don't expect to see anything of Nicki again after these two weeks of riotous fun together until her photo appears in society magazines with the announcement of a brilliant engagement to be married or her appointment to the British delegation at the United Nations. But I was left with the most heavenly recollections of the summer and knew I could look forward to being haunted for many years to come in my thoughts and dreams with memories of Nicki's joyful company, whether she was swimming, talking, at the boat's wheel, otk, or we were reveling in the pleasures of Hervey's Delight and its delirious aftermath of Virgin's Ecstasy . . . I turned and prepared to gird my loins (what was left of them!) for my return to work on Monday, and with a delightful extra dimension added to my life.