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From: Incest Man <familyincestfamilyincest@yahoo.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.hetero,alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: "The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane" Part 11D
Date: Sat, 17 Dec 2005 11:02:52 -0800
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===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/marthaj.html
The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane
Part 11D
Each day in New York introduced me to a different and fascinating
experienced that I had not imagined in Memphis. Wednesday was no
exception. The Long Island Railroad was a world of its own. We
rose at five-thirty and Martha and Ronnie and I had a quick, greasy
breakfast in Pennsylvania Station before boarding a commuter train
bound for eastern Long Island. We shuttled through Jamaica Station
just as the westbound rush hour mounted; for miles and miles as we
headed east toward Bay Shore, we were passed by one after another
packed, speeding rush hour trains headed for Manhattan. I was
flabbergasted at finding it true, as I had heard rumored, that
people on the rush hour trains really were so packed together that
their shoulders and backs, and in some cases their faces, were
pressed against the glass doors of the commuter cars.
Martha and Ronnie, in blue Jeans and printed shirts, sat smoking and
reading as westbound trains roared and clanged past our window.
"God," Ronnie said, shaking her head as yet another crowded train
blasted by, "I could never *DO* that! I'd die first! If I knew I
had to go through that when I got up in the morning, the first thing
I'd do is put my head in the oven."
By eight-thirty we arrived at the ocean side town of Bay Shore and
took a taxi to the ferries that waited to shuttle small crowds of
people to various landings on Fire Island. Martha and Ronnie
carried shopping bags while I toted the aluminum deck chairs we
rented at a clam shop near the ferry. Soon we boarded a boat and
found seats on the upper level, the deck's stark white benches
gleaming under the brilliant sun.
Martha put on her sunglasses. Ronnie sat next to her, combing back
her fluffy black hair that fluttered in the brisk ocean breeze.
"Don't look now," Ronnie said to Martha as she primped herself, "but
you're getting the eye again, Martha."
"Right," Martha said, unaffected, her chin in her hand as she sat
bored and waiting for the trip to get underway. "One of them's
giving you the eye, too."
"Which one? The fat sweaty guy in the big sombrero with the
ammunition belts strapped around his chest?"
I smirked at Ronnie, wagging my head. I lounged against the bench,
inhaling sea air for the first time in my life. "Ronnie, it's true.
Two guys right behind you are mesmerized by your beauty."
"It's not mesmerized, kiddo, it's heatstroke," she said, stuffing
her comb into the shopping bag at her feet.
"No. Really. The whole deck's giving you the eye."
She leaned toward me and wrinkled her face and squeezed my jaw,
pushing my cheeks together. "Aw, you're sweet. Keep talkin' to me,
baby. mmm-MM!"
With several of growls and a cloud of steam, the ferry got underway.
The boat cruised slowly down a half-mile, narrow inlet. Soon I saw
the channel open into a wide, endless expanse of sea. Sea gulls
were everywhere, following in the roiling wake as the boat opened
its engines and sped into the wind. It was exhilarating. I
couldn't resist standing up and leaning on the railing to survey it
all, my hair billowing in a blast of sea air. The sky was a clear
wash of cerulean blue. It seemed the whole world opened up around
us. I beamed at Martha.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, squinting up at me, her eyes
hidden behind the dark sunglasses. "I told you you'd love it."
"I do," I said. "This is marvelous. This is really great."
The ride to the island lasted twenty minutes. I spent the whole
time marveling at the screeching gulls that accompanied us. More
birds greeted us at the village pier. Sea gulls and swallows
swooped and glided everywhere. The port lay at the foot of a small
village only three or four city blocks wide, dotted with wooden
homes painted in bright pastels. The crowd of beach goers alighted
onto the wooden pier with their bags and umbrellas and chairs and
headed down a wooden path that led slightly upward toward the
horizon a few hundred yards away.
"The beach is straight ahead," Ronnie said. "Keep going. You can't
miss it. When you start sinking, you're there."
We strolled down the wooden walkway, Martha and Ronnie chatting
animatedly. I was oblivious to what they said. As I did when first
walking along the streets of Manhattan, I gaped at everything in
sight. Wood frame houses lined the path, set back in a small yard
of short, thin cherry and holly and dogwood trees. Each house had
its garden of wildflowers or cultivated plants, each front porch the
home of rubber balls and rubber rafts and beach blankets hung out to
dry. It was serene, painterly, mirage-like.
We reached the top of a hill, which I found was a dune of soft tan
sand. Before us lay the blue ocean, waves creeping lazily to the
shore.
"Let's get our jeans off and look like beach people," Martha said.
I thought: Uh-oh, this is where we get nekkid. But Martha and
Ronnie stripped down only to their swimsuits, Martha's a bright
yellow one-piece and Ronnie's a one-piece, dark indigo with a pink
slash across one hip. I stripped to my shorts. We gathered our
bags and walked in the sand to the water, then followed the
waterline down the beach.
"Our place is just a mile or so down," Martha said. "Steven, walk
out here by the water. Walking in soft sand will wear you out."
Dark sandpipers hopped and flitted around us. Small waves swooshed
in loudly and then hissed away, gurgling as they coiled back from
shore. We walked toward a blazing sun. The beach was sparsely
populated, as Martha said it would be, with several long, empty
stretches. Martha and Ronnie talked as they walked, their feet
sinking slightly into the wet, packed sand. Walking behind them, I
couldn't hear their conversation over the sound of the waves and the
simmering ocean. I had never seen Martha in a swimsuit. I had seen
her either dressed or nude. She walked gracefully, poised and
smooth, almost as if she had trained herself to do so. Ronnie was
more flippant, kicking up little spoons of sand behind her. Whereas
Martha had a toned, firm, ballerina's body, Ronnie was sinuous, her
limbs longer and softer. She had a slim, compact torso and delicate
shoulders. She was the same five and a half feet as Martha, but
Ronnie looked taller with long, slender limbs and hands, a sparse
but tight tush, her long legs less muscular but smooth and gently
tapering into lean calves and ankles. As they walked and talked,
Martha hugged her shopping bag to her chest; Ronnie carried hers in
one hand at her side, her other arm poised carelessly in the air
while she flipped her hand loosely as she talked. I was too
spellbound to do anything more than watch and listen to the
Atlantic.
After a while Ronnie turned to me, pointing ahead. "There it is!"
she yelled.
"Come on!" Martha yelled after her. "It's open! Come on!"
I caught up with them. Ahead, a few older couples and a younger one
sat on beach towels, separated by wide stretches of beige sand.
Some on their sides, some on their backs, some on their tummies.
All nude.
Martha and Ronnie found a spot, spread the towels, and slipped off
their shoulder straps.
"Oh, it's so NICE out here today!" Ronnie squealed as she peeled
her swimsuit downward. "Oh, Martha, it's heaven! We picked a
perfect day!"
I'm certain my eyes tripled in size as Ronnie's soft, jiggling,
dark-nippled breasts came quickly into view. A couple of her ribs
stuck out. Her tummy was flat; Martha's was so tight it seemed
sucked it. Both women were the same size, but slim Ronnie looked
alluringly long legged. Martha's mound stood out prominently under
her auburn bush; Ronnie's tummy sloped gently to a smallish black
whorl, simple and feathery, and her pelvis curled inward immediately
beneath it, showing only a hint of a slit. Now I had seen three
nudes in my life: Martha, and a brief and incomplete glimpse of
Karen, and now Ronnie. I found Ronnie surprisingly pleasing to look
at; she seemed almost teen-like and looked younger naked than she
did dressed.
Nude, they sat on their beach towels, knees bent, and fished for
their bottles of Coppertone.
I stood fiddling with my shirt, shuffling around nervously and
kicking off my shoes.
"Come on!" Ronnie called to me. I picked up my shoes and walked to
them, and dropped the chairs on the ground. I started to unfold
them, but Martha said, "Put the lotion on first, Steven! Hurry!
You can get sunburned out here before you know it!"
Ronnie smirked and kidded, "Get undressed. Come on, it's so perfect
out. Here, use up my lotion first." She handed me her bottle of
Coppertone. I looked at it, and looked down at my clothed body.
The moment of truth had arrived. Courageously, I removed my shirt
and then unzipped and removed my shorts, looking around casually and
trying to pretend That Ronnie and Martha weren't there. There I
was: naked. Not nude -- naked. I knelt into the sand, facing
toward the water with the others, the better not to let either of
them notice I was half erect. I squirted lotion on my arms and
chest, gasping as the cool stuff hit my skin. I rubbed it in,
adding more to my legs and face.
Martha reclined, saying, "Come on, Steven, finish up and get comfy.
You're never gonna get a tan like this in Memphis."
Ronnie asked, "They don't have water in Memphis?"
"Of course not, Ronnie, it's five hundred miles inland from the
Gulf."
"Jeez, I couldn't live in a place that didn't have an ocean. I'd
dry up and die. Steven, sweetheart, can you do our backs? I
promise to do yours."
"Sure," I said, kneeling down and holding the bottle firmly so they
wouldn't see my hands shaking. I thanked my stars that both of them
turned their backs to me: perhaps my organ would have time to settle
down. I rubbed lotion onto Martha, whose sleek back I knew only too
well. And then onto Ronnie, whose unfamiliar, softer skin had a
comfortably warm and melty feel to it. "Mmmm," she moaned as I
rubbed, which didn't do much to calm me down. "Steven, what a nice
touch. Martha, does he give you back rubs?"
"No," Martha said. "Women who ask for free back rubs are a pain."
"God, I haven't had a back rub since my last time at Fiore's.
Martha, you don't know what you're missing here."
"Ronnie, he just did my back."
"Wasn't it wonderful?"
"Steven always had a nice touch."
"Oh, Martha, why didn't you *tell* me earlier?"
"Oh, Ron, shut up. Steven, finish her back. She's just teasing
you."
"Steven, I'm not. You're a miracle man. Really. Oh, I was so
tense. I'm always so tense in the city. It's so nice to come out
here and relax, isn't it?"
"It's nice," I said, rubbing quickly to get it over with.
"Okay," Ronnie said. "Now you. Come on, sit."
I lay down on the blanket beside her, quickly aligning myself face
down. "Go ahead," I told her. "I like it better this way." I also
appreciated the fact that my half-hard was completely hidden in that
position.
"Whatever," she said. "Here, I'll spread it on my hands first, so
you don't get a heart attack from a cold splash. There. Therrrre
we go, nice and gooey, huh? Wonder what they put in this junk to
make it so icky? Mmm, Martha, look at this guy's figure. Can you
believe this?"
"Believe what?" Martha said, shuffling and making herself more
comfortable as she gazed skyward.
"Look at this body! Steven, where did you get a body like this?
Martha, look at him. Did you know Steven looked like this?"
"I know, Ronnie, Steven's very lucky. He has perfect proportions.
Broad shoulders, slim hips. Hey, I'll unfold the chairs. Our
towels are already full of sand. Ronnie, stop gushing over him!
Poor Steven is so shy. He's from Memphis, y'know, he's not used to
this."
"Oh...Steven, am I bothering you? Gee, Martha, it's only suntan
lotion...God, I'd die for a tush like this."
It may have been only tanning lotion, but it was in Ronnie's long,
slithery, not very strong, slender fingers, her hands much wider and
her fingers much longer than Martha's. I even found myself wishing
that Ronnie were more vigorous; her hands had a sensuous, lingering
quality that was not quite like Martha's more direct touch.
Blessedly, she was soon finished and rose to help Martha with the
chairs.
"Ah," Martha said, settling into the plastic straps of the lounge
chair. "MUCH better!"
"Steven," Ronnie said above me as she sat in another chair, "you
don't want a chair?"
"No," I murmured from the ground as I rested face down, hiding my
hard on. "I like it just like this for a while."
"Whatever," Ronnie said.
Martha and Ronnie rested for a while. I lay with my eyes closed,
feeling free and clean with my back and buttocks and heels in the
baking sun, the breeze rippling over my flesh. The new sensations
were pleasantly calming. My erection soon dwindled as the sound of
rustling ocean waves began lulling me into drowsiness. After a
while Ronnie and Martha began chatting about a restaurant they had
tried and about a sale coming up at one of the big department stores
and about the clothes at Sach's being grossly overpriced, and I
closed my eyes and relaxed. Before I knew it, I dozed.
"Hey," Martha said, stroking my back.
I blinked awake. Martha was kneeling over me. My eyes moved. The
pair of feet standing near my head belonged to Ronnie.
"Turn over," Martha said, "You'll get baked on one side."
"Oh," I said. I directed my mind to my penis to make certain all
was safe. It was.
Martha chuckled, "Ronnie, Steven isn't used to a real beach. It's a
good thing we're with him or he'd get fried."
I turned over and looked up. Ronnie grinned at me from above, her
hands on her hips, her slit plainly visible below her tummy, which
rose upward to her sloping breasts. They were a little smaller than
Martha's, not as rounded, with small brownish aureoles and darker
nipples.
Ronnie said they were getting up their courage to try a dip in the
surf. I rose and watched them walk toward the waves, Martha's round
globes glistening in the sun and Ronnie's softer, flatter tush
bouncing lightly. Martha dipped a foot into the water and jumped
back, squeaking and laughing.
"Hey, it can't be that cold," Ronnie said, then screeched and jumped
when she tried it.
The water looked inviting. I was anxious to feel what swimming in
an ocean was like. I rose and walked to the water, where the two
girls giggled and squeaked and hesitated about venturing more than
ankle-deep into the water.
"Steven, it's cold!" Martha warned me.
The water chilled my toes, but it was bearable. I walked slowly,
water licking at my ankles and then at my calves. I told Martha and
Ronnie to step out gradually and pause to let their skin adjust to
the water before proceeding. All three of us tried it, and soon we
were waist deep in the water. I splashed my chest and face,
discovering that sea water really did taste salty. I squinted up,
into the sun. It was pleasant, new, comforting, exactly what a
genteel character I once saw in E.M. Forester would have called "an
excellent adventure." The sloshing waves pulled feebly at my hips,
nudging me to and fro slightly. I reveled in the simple, calm
excitement of everything around me. But always, there was that
little tug from within, tempering every pleasure: Memphis was still
ahead, somewhere. Damn, I thought, why wouldn't it go away?
I felt a hand touch my back, and stiff nipples against me. Under
the water, blood warmed my cock.
I turned. Martha smiled at me. "It's nice, huh?"
I looked back at the sea. "It's wonderful. I don't want to leave.
Can I build a shack back there on the island?"
"Sure," she said, laughing. "For about fifty thousand dollars."
Far ahead of us, a motor boat crossed our path on its way toward the
city. It roared past merrily, stirring up a wake behind it.
"Jeez," I heard Ronnie say, "I've never been out this far." She
appeared to my right and walked out just ahead of us. Martha strode
to her, nodding lightly in the water.
"It's not so bad once you get into it," Martha said.
I watched the two of them bob as water crept toward their shoulders.
Martha slid into the water, floating, and turned onto her back, her
feet kicking and pushing her toward shore. I took another step
forward, feeling the water rise to my chest. I was enjoying the
unique sensation of unseen currents snaking around my waist and
chest when I looked up and saw the choppy results of the boat's wake
arcing toward us.
I yelled at the others to move back. Martha squinted at me,
questioning, and I pointed to the approaching waves. She cautioned
Ronnie to pull back to shore, but Ronnie grinned and stood where she
was. "come 'n get me!" she yelled playfully ahead of her, but a
few seconds later the height of the spreading wave, which would have
been slightly above our shoulders, became apparent. She moved
backward, laughing, chanting, "Here it comes, here it comes!", and
even though I tried to move aside, she changed direction
unexpectedly and backed directly into me, the furrow of her buttocks
directly against my cock, her soft, warm, wet flesh seeming to cling
to my shaft and generating a sudden and electric jolt in my groin.
She jerked violently, rising out of the water and turning around to
face me, her mouth an 'O' of shock. "Steven! God, I thought
someone was sneaking up on me, I didn't know who you WERE!"
As the first wave hit us, her eyes shot open and the force shoved
her into me, her forehead bumping my chin. I grabbed her shoulders
to hold her up. She squealed, the cold water rushing over our
shoulders, and my cock grew at the feel of her slim, delicate
shoulders and her nipples brushing my chest. She shrieked again,
"God, that's cold!", and moved away, and then shrieked again as the
next wave pushed her into me again, this time pushing both of us
backward, and her slim thighs embraced my left leg, leaving clearly
in my brain an impression of the exact size, shape, and texture of
her cunt on my upper thigh. She shrieked again, wiggling free, and
wiped her face and waved her arms in the water.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Damn, I didn't expect that! Did I bump you in the
face?"
"It's okay," I said, holding up my hands. "It's okay, don't worry."
I laughed, my cock suddenly the size of a corncob.
"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you?"
"No, no," I insisted. "No problem."
"Gee, that wave was COLD! Lemme outta here, I gotta warm up!"
She struggled back to shore as quickly as she could, but I lagged
behind. I stopped when the water fell to my navel. Dimly through
the dark swirling sea water, I could see my organ at top mast. I
would have to wait in that spot until things calmed down.
"Come on!" Martha called from the shore, "it's too chilly to stay
in there! Come on, Steven, let's get some lunch and walk around."
I held up a finger to suggest one minute. The waves stirred up by
the boat were receding, the water level threatening to bare me below
my navel, so I moved backward.
"Aw, c'mon," Ronnie said, "I'm getting hungry anyway."
I grinned sheepishly, bobbing in the water and flexing my arms at my
sides to keep from being pulled shoreward.
"Steven," Martha called, "Come on out, what's the matter?"
I raised my finger again. Two nude nymphs jumping and cavorting
before me did little to stem the tide, as it were. I remained as
hard as ever. Martha alone would have been enough, but the feel of
Ronnie's soft, fleshy cunt on my thigh was still too fresh in my
mind. I waited, the water suddenly receding so swiftly that I
dropped to my knees, grinning and wobbling in the choppy water.
"What's the matter?" Martha yelled, impatient.
I grinned back. I held my finger high again.
Ronnie stood with her hands on her hips, smirking sarcastically.
"Martha..." She indicated me with her thumb over her shoulder. "I
think Steven's stuck out there with a big kielbasa."
Martha squinted. "A what?" Then she covered her mouth and her eyes
shot open. She twirled on her toes once, laughing. "Oh, Steven!
Oh, you poor thing! Oh..hahahaha!"
Ronnie called out dryly, "Sorry, Steven."
I grinned back foolishly.
Ronnie wagged her head, shrugged, and gave me an apologetic
palms-up.
Martha yelled, "Do you want your shorts? I can throw them out
there."
I shook my head no. Their humor and Ronnie's frank acceptance of my
condition created an intimacy between me and the two girls that
enlarged and enhanced my erection. I turned from them and strode
further into the sea, my wobbling cock out of sight of the beach and
just above the water, and I leapt into the air, feeling pleased,
sexy, daring, vigorous. I stood on my toes, stretched my arms,
arched my cock, and howled at the sea and the sky. No Mom to flinch
in disgust, no aunt to screech in alarm, no nun to pummel me with
guilt. I had no idea what the others thought I was doing, but I was
enjoying my hard on and the day and the sun and I closed my eyes and
saw the image of Martha, naked and laughing on the sand, and
remembered how incredibly good Ronnie felt against me, without
wanting to do anything about it except enjoy it.
Continued...
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