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From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.hetero,alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: story: "The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane" (bf mF mF+) Part 9D
Date: Sun, 13 Aug 2006 00:13:36 -0700
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/mathaj.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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