Stuttering Sailor Synopsis

“Hi Meg, I’ve been kidnapped,” I yelled into the phone …“That Ian bastard has me on this yacht miles away from anywhere.” I told her what happened and she thought it a hilarious joke.

Stuttering Sailor

by obohobo

Warnings

Please take note!

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

MF

If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.

© obohobo 2009

“Fuck you arsehole, what you think I’ve B.O. or something?” I yelled at the back of the retreating boy. His action soured what should have been an enjoyable college party.

When Julie, Meg, Sasha and I arrived, there weren’t any tables free but Meg spotted four boys, two of whom she knew and dragged us over to their table. Three of them introduced themselves and my friends quickly insinuated themselves between them but the fourth remained silent. I drew the short straw and went to sit next to him but he took one look at me, stood and walked out of the room. Hence my remark.

“From what I hear, Deb,” Greg informed us, “He’s Ian Campbell an engineering student, and he hardly says a word in class but produces brilliant work. He sat at this table alone when we came and we sort of commandeered it so he wasn’t part of our group. Never seen him at a party before. Don’t blame yourself, you’ve no body odour, in fact you smell rather nice.” But for all they tried to include me in the dancing and drinking, I felt I was the odd one out and left early.

During the following three weeks I saw the boy twice in the cafeteria and both times I taunted him, suggesting that he preferred boys or children but each time he ignored my remarks and the second time, he made me feel guilty because he stood, emptied his unfinished meal in the trash and left, looking very sad and almost in tears.

In early June on a bright summers morning, I met him again under very different circumstances. They’d built the college on the site of a disused power station and an old brewery that once stood on the banks of the river and on this particularly Saturday, I’d had to drop a project off at the admin office and, it being a nice morning, decided to detour along the riverside footpath. At the town yacht club I saw Ian pushing a dinghy down the shingle towards the water. He left it and went to his car and I watched him pull out a couple of bags. He hadn’t seen me so I decided to have a game with him and sat on one of the seats going across the little boat and dangled my legs over the side. His face fell when he saw me and said, “P-l-ea-se l-ea-ve.”

“No, I’ll leave when I’m ready and when you apologise and explain why you’re behaving like an arsehole to me.” He stood and looked around, dumped his bags in the boat, hooked the engine on the back and stuttered something unintelligible. I made myself more comfortable but wasn’t sure I did the right thing. Although he didn’t say anything, I could see the anger in his eyes but decided to sit tight and tease him some more. Again he looked round and not seeing anyone close, he bent down and pushed on the back of the boat and started it sliding over the shingle and then on the mud. I managed to get my feet inside the boat before my shoes became too muddy, but I swore at him and called him all the names I could think of. However, the mud surrounding the boat had me trapped as he pushed it down the gentle slope to the water. Moments later, the boat floated and he waded to the wooden causeway that protruded into the river and climbed on to it. I thought I could get out but he held the boat by a rope at the front, waded into the water again and washed his legs and shoes; the dinghy floated some distance away from the causeway and my escape route.

A couple of other sailing types came by and I yelled at them to pull the boat in but they seemed to think it was all a fun student’s joke and carried on to their own boat. Finally he pulled the boat alongside and said, “L-l-l--ast c-c-c cha- nce.”

Two could play at that game. I sat with my arms folded and glared at him and said, “Fuck you, you’ll have to carry me if you want me off,” but I think he half expected my reaction and gave the boat a push as he jumped nimbly in. The breeze blew us further away as he stood and pulled the cord to start the little engine thing hooked over the back and soon we sped away from the shore. “Take me back, you bastard,” I yelled but most of my yells were lost in the engine noise and the sound of the water slapping the boat. A big power boat went by and when we hit the wash, spray flew over me and I cursed even more but to no avail. “I ought to phone someone,” I thought but in the choppy water, my hands clung to the seat and I could only sit and watch his face and the wake we left as he manoeuvred the small boat between moored yachts. Ten minutes later, he swung the boat around, slowed the engine and we came alongside quite a smart looking yacht, not one of the bigger ones but it had a cabin, a tall mast and railings and things. Again I debated whether or not to sit still but water kept splashing over me so I climbed over the railings into the cockpit.

“Hi Meg, I’ve been kidnapped,” I yelled into the phone while Ian went below and stowed his stuff, “That Ian bastard has me on this yacht miles away from anywhere.” I told her what happened and she thought it a hilarious joke.

“Has he hoisted the Jolly Roger yet? He’ll probably sail to some foreign land and sell you as a harem slave. Or hold you to ransom. Has he hurt you or touched you?”

“No… but he’s bringing me a lifejacket thingy, so he’s taking me somewhere.”

“Doesn’t sound as if he is going to dump you overboard if he’s giving you a life jacket. Enjoy your day. Hey, I’ll phone in an hour and see if you’re okay and not swinging from the yardarm. What’s the name of the boat in case I have to call the coastguard?”

“It said ‘Sparky’ on the back.” I took a little reassurance from the fact that he let me use my phone without any restriction but remained apprehensive. At least on the boat I could stand without it wobbling and threatening to tip me over and I could look back the nearly a mile to the town and where we came from.

Ian helped me untangle the life jacket and put it on and told me in his hesitant way, to sit in the cockpit while he did some things on deck. I ordered him to take be back but he simply shook his head and said, “Not… yet,” and started to take the covers off the sails. Perhaps he did intend to sail to a foreign land but I rather doubted that in such a small boat. I gave up yelling at him and sat enjoying the sunshine even if the wind kept temperature down. Finally he rolled the covers into neat parcels, stuffed them below and started the engine. Minutes later we sped downriver with him standing alongside me and steering the boat into a clear space where we turned and he slowed the engine right down. “S-s-s-ste-eer,” he indicated a direction with his arm, placed my hands on the steering stick and went to the mast and winched up the main sail. It flapped and made a lot of noise and the wooden beam above my head swung back and forth so I had to keep my head down. At one point he indicated I pull the stick towards me and almost automatically I did so partly because I was afraid something nasty would happen if I didn’t. The noise increased when he came into the cockpit and pulled some ropes and the front sail opened and flapped.

Again he indicated for me to pull the stick and to my shock, the boat started heeling over at an alarming angle and we began rushing through the water but I noticed another sailing boat close by leaning over too and they seemed okay. Of course, I’d seen boats sailing like it before but I’d never been on one. I relaxed a little when he cut the engine and left me steering the thing with occasional nudges from him. In the exhilaration of the speed and gentle bucking of the boat, I began to forget that I’d been kidnapped and concentrated on steering. Ian went below after a while and made coffee and took a couple of homemade cakes from his lunchbox and offered me one with the mug of coffee. “S-s-s-u-g-ar?” His awkward, hesitant speech puzzled me and I slowly began to realise that stammering might be the cause of his introverted behaviour.

“Where are you now?” Meg dutifully phoned rather more than an hour after my call to her,

“Dunno, open sea ahead, maybe Morocco in the distance. We’re heeled over and going like the clappers so we should get there by nightfall if I’m not made to walk the plank first.”

“At least you sound a bit more cheerful. Do I expect a ransom demand tonight?”

“More likely a demand for a sweater. It’s quite chilly here even if the sun is shining.”

To my surprise, almost as soon as I put the phone away, Ian brought a bulky sweater from the cabin and helped me on with it and then replaced the life jacket.

Near midday, we turned into another river and had to go a short distance one way and then turn and the boat leaned over the other way, ‘tacking’ he called in but by one o’clock we’d arrived at a quiet spot and he dropped the sails and anchored. I suddenly became afraid, knowing I was alone with him, out of sight of others and no idea where I was. He could do almost anything to me but then I looked in the cabin and saw him getting out cooking utensils and presently the smell of bacon frying wafted through the hatch. He apologised for the small amount of food but said he expected to be sailing alone. “You shouldn’t have kidnapped me then,” I laughed, amazed how my attitude had changed in a few hours.

I phoned Meg again and apparently Julie and Sasha were with her and they suggested that I’d soon be on my back with my legs splayed, but at the moment that didn’t seem too likely. He appeared as much afraid of touching me as I of him. We had a limited conversation during lunch and I began to understand a little of his speech impediment; when nervous his speech was almost unintelligible, when relaxed and not under pressure, he spoke less hesitantly. After a while I tried to ask questions where a yes or no answer would do but as he became more used to me, his answers became longer.

The return trip proved just as enjoyable or more so as I knew what to expect and began to learn some of the terms. The wind had died down a little but we made a good speed. I let Meg know when we moored the boat and a reception committee awaited our arrival at the dinghy park. At least they helped pull the little boat over the bank accompanied, of course, by questions as to what we did while alone on the boat and if I wore the big sweater to keep his hands off my tits.

That night, unable to sleep, I went over the events of the day and their implications. My feelings towards him had undergone a radical change since the morning. I no longer saw him as the surly, rude sod who shunned me a few weeks ago but someone with a speech problem that somewhere in his past, caused him to shy away from others and particularly girls. I didn’t find out why he was at the party or why I had been able to breach his shyness at least to a limited extent? The only hypothesis I could come up with was having me more or less a prisoner and fully in his charge gave him more confidence. He would know though, I wasn’t really a prisoner and could have phoned Meg or the police as he never attempted to take my mobile and if he’d attempted to force me to have sex or anything, I would have fought tooth and nail, but we hardly touched each other. He didn’t even put his arms around me and tensed when he had to put his hand on mine when I pulled the tiller (I learned the term) the wrong way. His kindness in finding me a sweater when I hadn’t asked for one, especially after the way I’d treated him when we’d met in the cafeteria, completely changed my perception of him and I began to wonder if there was any future in a relationship. Not that I really wanted another one. Did he fancy me? I thought I saw his prick start to stiffen when he had a close-up view of my thighs and the crotch of my shorts when I stood in front of him in that tiny cabin but he went on deck to give me some privacy when I used that funny loo with less room than in a shower cubicle. Would I want to go out with him again? Perhaps? I’d enjoyed the day after I’d got over the initial worry of being alone with him and began to trust that he wouldn’t harm me, but talking with him was hard work although that eased when we drank tea together in the cockpit before sailing home. In any case, I had a boyfriend, well sort of, in Ronnie who joined our little group and latched on to me. I didn’t see that as a permanent thing but he took it seriously, especially after I allowed him to fuck me once. He’s a braggart and thinks he’s God’s gift to women, but he failed to bring me to a climax.

Meg, Sasha and I saw Ian alone in the cafeteria on Tuesday and sat with him. For once he didn’t get up and leave but he hardly said a word although Sasha and Meg teased him and tried to get him to sail away with me again. Several times, seeing his embarrassment, I curbed their wild remarks and he gave me a grateful look but wouldn’t be drawn into making a date for another trip and I insisted that once was enough. My friends knew I lied but I’m not sure that he did.

“I’ve been to see Ian and arranged another trip for you,” Meg announced on the Thursday of the following week, “You’re to be at the dinghy park at 8:30 on Sunday.”

“I don’t want to go out with him again and I have a date with Ronnie for Sunday.”

“You’re not fooling me Deb, you’ve not spoken of anyone else since that day and you always look to see if he’s in the cafeteria. You can always break your date with Ronnie.” I knew she didn’t like him.

“Couldn’t you have arranged it for Saturday?”

“He said there were strong winds and rain forecast for Saturday but Sunday should be a bit better. I also said that if you didn’t behave yourself he should tie you to the mast and flog you with the cat-o’-nine-tails. He looked shocked at the thought of doing that…”

“How come you got all of that from him? How long were you with him?”

“About an hour. I found out where he lives and went there and invited myself in. Took a while but I tried to use yes or no answer questions at first but when he relaxed I got longer answers.”

A twinge of jealousy hit me and I wondered if she fancied him and would go if I didn’t. That decided me. Ronnie was not at all pleased when I cancelled our date and became angry when I pointed out that we weren’t in a permanent relationship, but I told him in unladylike words, to go and fuck himself.

Actually by the end of Sunday, I wasn’t so sure about the whole thing. The strong wind and rough water caused the boat bounce around and made me feel queasy and coupled with heavy rain showers, made the trip much less pleasant than the previous one, but in a way I found it exciting. Ian looked after me and found a calmer place where the hills sheltered us, for us to have lunch. Another rain squall hit us soon after we started back and I tried to shelter in the cabin but felt sick and returned to the cockpit with him. Even with wet-weather gear on, I could feel water dribbling down my back and for a while, felt utterly miserable. Ian must have noticed and tentatively put his arm around me and I snuggled closer. At one point I thought he might have kissed me, but he didn’t and later when I made the attempt, the peaks on our hats collided and we both laughed as the rain poured down our faces but I didn’t try again.

The rain still poured when we arrived back but now, soaked through I didn’t worry about splashing in the water and mud to get the dinghy back to the parking place. Ian drove me to the dorm block but we parted with only thank-yous and didn’t make any further arrangements. Meg saw me come in and fetched the others and they laughed hysterically at my bedraggled state. “Obviously you didn’t spend all your time in the cabin getting screwed,” Julie grinned and the others joined in with their comments and Sasha asked if I’d even seen his prick.

“Only a glimpse when he peed over the side and thought I was in the cabin.” I wondered if they believed me.

Tuesday afternoon I tried to study in my room but my mind constantly reverted to Ian and the near kiss we had and the way we both laughed at the collision. Meg burst in, as she usually did when I didn’t lock the door, and excitedly asked, “Have you heard the news?” Seeing me shake my head she went on, “They’ve arrested Ronnie. They’ll probably question you soon.”

“Why? What for?”

“You know that little boat thing we helped pull into the boat park?” I nodded, “Well apparently Ronnie took a club hammer and smashed it up. They caught his car on cctv when it went under the barrier into the sailing club grounds and found the hammer in the car when they arrested him this morning.” Knowing it was a revenge attack against me, I said I’d better go and see Ian but I still hadn’t a clue where he lived. Meg had withheld that information. “It gets worse, Deb. They say Ian got a threatening email and they think Ronnie sent it.” Noises outside interrupted our conversation and I looked down into the courtyard and saw a police car parked.

“Looks like the police are coming to take me away,” I muttered seconds before the knock on my door. Meg opened it. “Is Ian okay?” I asked and when they told me he was, I asked, “Have you been able to talk to him? He has difficulties…”

“Yes, we found that out but he talked by typing on his computer.” I gave them my story and found out more of what happened. At night the security barrier across the drive into the club grounds is lowered but can be raised by a push button. “To get at the button, you have to leave the car so the camera had a clear view of Mr. Sommers and it recorded the time as 02:33 hours. It recorded his exit 20 minutes later. A fishing boat owner alerted us at five o’clock but it took us several hours to locate the staff and get the film and locate the owner of the boat. We found him in the college workshop earlier today and he mentioned the email he’d received from a hotmail address saying, “You’ll be next.” It didn’t take the tech boys long to find out the newly created address belonged to Mr. Sommers. The threat escalated our investigation and we arrested him and he’s in custody at the moment and will be charged with various offenses when they’ve done interviewing him and others.” They asked us to go to the station and give a statement to the detectives.

Ian had arrived sometime before us and we had to wait for him to finish his interview and the detective wasn’t too happy when he came out, at the time it had taken and grumbled to desk sergeant that it had taken a hour to get one sentence out of him. I went to Ian and the detective turned to me and asked, “Are you the girl that caused all this trouble?”

I burst into tears for being blamed and Ian said, “S-s-she d-d-d did-no-t c-c-c-c-ause t-t-t-t trub-ble.” He came and wrapped his arms protectively around me for a few minutes and gave me a kiss until I calmed and Meg told us to stop snogging in a public place. Fortunately the sergeant told the detective to take a break and the police who brought us took our official statements. Seemed a bit silly when they could have done that at home but then I wouldn’t have had the hug and the kiss.

Ian drove us home and Meg, seeing we were both upset, suggested that I stay with him for an hour or two to comfort each other. I knew how she expected us to do the comforting. We’d missed dinner in the cafeteria so Ian bought a take away and we ate at his place and in fact comforted each other overnight. It took a little while to get him to remove his clothing and his speech became incoherent, but once we were both naked, his prick knew what to do. For a virgin, he proved a better lover than most other boyfriends I’d had and certainly better than Ronnie Sommers.

Meg had gleefully informed the girls of my not returning and I had to withstand their comments at college the next day but, in good humour, I fended them off and said we planned to go sailing again at the weekend if the weather was okay. Another club member offered Ian the loan of his dinghy until the insurance pays and Ian can get another.

They charged Ronnie with criminal damage and threatening behaviour and we expect a hearing at the magistrate’s court shortly and maybe he’ll be sent for trial at a later date at crown court. We’re hoping he pleads guilty, and with the evidence against him, that is quite likely, so that we don’t have to go into the witness box. That would be a real ordeal for Ian.

Will we remain together? I don’t know. I like him a lot, but the language difficulty is a barrier, one that we may overcome in time but who knows?

Finis