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Sailing - Quiet Romance

A first story posted; need feedback
Sailing – Quiet Romance

This is a little tale about an experience I had a while ago. But first, let me introduce myself, and also mention that all characters herein are consenting adults. The names have been changed in an effort to circumvent unnecessary persecution.

I’m an ‘older’ guy, recently retired, living on a barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico, off the southwest Florida coast. I enjoy leading an active life, and try to stay fit by walking, bike riding, swimming and sailing on the calm blue-green waters. Community affairs and environmental concerns also occupy a good portion of my time.

Anna Maria Island is rather small, extending only about seven miles north to south and not even a mile wide at its broadest point. Once the snowbirds return home as the weather in the North thaws out, all the natives left behind here know one another, at least by sight if not by name. That is where this story starts.

On a very pleasant spring morning, I stumbled out of my townhouse heading toward the dock, dragging a wheeled cooler with one hand and hefting a satchel in the other. Sue, a friendly neighbor who was walking along the path, asked if I wanted a hand. I could have easily managed it on my own, but something about the way she was smiling at me prompted me to take her up on the offer. I nodded and Sue grabbed the cooler pull-bar and we continued to walk along together.

Although we have been living in the same community for a few years, I really didn’t know Sue very well. Sure, we attend the community meetings and potluck suppers, and occasionally swim in the pool at the same time, but I have never gone out of my way to develop a friendship with her. What I do know is that Sue is married but lives here alone most of the time because her husband is in the military and stationed I do not know where--I’ve only seen him a few times. As we started onto the dock, Sue said, “Hey, Dan, looks like you’re off for a little sail. Need a crew?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I’ve seen you crewing before on some neighbor boats. It looks as if you know what to do. Seeing that we’re neighbors, we should get to know each other better and a sail might be just the thing--fun and relaxing.”

She replied something to the effect, “Fun but no monkey business. I suppose my husband and your wife would agree, don’t you?” With that, she laughed a little and helped carry the stuff to my boat; a 32-foot sailboat that I can handle myself but find sailing with a companion more enjoyable. The boat has an open cockpit, with the helm toward the stern, and a nice cozy cabin forward with a galley and head. She is capable of accommodating a couple of friendly persons on overnight and weekend cruises.

I told Sue that I would probably be out for five hours, and that I was planning on grilling fish for lunch--if any were biting--when I got to Egmont Key, then taking a swim there in the surf and relaxing some before heading back. I asked if that schedule would work for her. She said it would be fine as her husband was away and she really had nothing planned for the day, but that she would need to go home for her bathing suit if we were going to swim. I told her that I never bothered with swimming attire, except when at the mooring and at times when young kids are onboard, adding that there might be something aboard that she could wear. Sue grinned, gave a nervous little giggle, and said she could make do. I welcomed her aboard, ready to begin our adventure together.

We stowed the provisions we brought aboard and I set about showing Sue the various lockers where life-vests, sails, lines, winch handles and such are located. I then started the engine to maneuver us around other boats and into the Intracoastal Waterway and headed us south. As we were puttering along through the no-wake zone, I placed a call to Marie, my wife, to tell her that I had crew on board (just in case of malicious gossip), and gave her Sue’s name and phone number. Happily for me, my wife did not answer and I was able to just leave the information on the machine without having to answer any prying questions.

Unfortunately, the drawbridge was closing as we approached and I knew that there would be almost twenty minutes to wait for the next scheduled opening. That is where an engine is very helpful, especially in the channel that was created sixty years ago by a hurricane that changed one long barrier island into two smaller ones. While we were waiting, I could see that Sue had something on her mind so I asked her if she wanted to say something--and suggested that as we were going to be alone together on open waters that we should both feel free to speak and say whatever was on our minds.

With some initial hemming and hawing, Sue told me she wanted to ask about my wife and if it would bother her now that she knows that I was off on a cruise with another woman, stressing, “Just the two of us, un-chaperoned.” Sue went on to mention, “A month or so ago when I sat with you, your wife and a few other couples at the pot-luck I couldn’t help noticing how little you and Marie interacted with each other. I have spent time with your wife at various women’s social events, in the pool and stuff like that, than I’ve spent with you, but I don’t feel that I know her as a real person.”

I said, “Marie is very slow to warm up to people—something I can’t really explain, or really understand myself.”

And then Sue said, “I feel more relaxed and comfortable with you even though I barely know you. By the way, thanks for inviting me to sit with you folks that evening.” Then Sue hurriedly asked, “Does Marie treat you as coolly in private as she appears to do in public, and is she just a cold and unfriendly person?”

It was now my turn to laugh a little as I told her that Marie and I had been married for more than forty-five years, that we sleep together in the same bed almost every night, but I’d not been allowed any intimacy with her for many years. I also said, feeling somewhat embarrassed, that I sometimes wondered if she assumed that my ‘needs’ had dwindled and were satisfied solely by being with and talking to other women -- without touching. In other words, just by normal social contact. Finally I said, “No, she wouldn’t object to me being with you. She trusts my judgment. And, no, she is not really cold…just a different kind of person.” I also told Sue that our grown daughter has also observed the same thing and has told me that she wonders how I can put up with “your wife’s” coolness. As kind of an afterthought, I said, “Wow, I knew we would have plenty of friendly talk on our excursion, but I never thought that I would burden you with my personal dilemma.”

In a very comforting tone Sue said, “Dan, that’s what friends are for, to listen, to comfort, and to lend a helping hand. And yes, I would like to be your friend.”

I then mentioned to Sue that she must be rather open-minded as she volunteered to crew when it was obvious that there would be only the two of us on-board, and well away from land and other people. With a blush, Sue told me that she gets terribly lonely with her husband away for so many months at a time, but that over the years she had developed a great deal of independence and was able to take care of herself. She went on that she had seen me around the community often, and, thinking that I could be fun, wanted to get to know me better--and also that she was looking for some excitement. Then she immediately repeated her, “Fun, but no monkey business,” line.

“Agreed,” I replied.

The bridge opened and we chugged through, unfurling the jenny as we cleared the surf. I hoisted and set the main, cut the engine and headed out about a mile while gradually turning north. Seeing Sue comfortable and relaxed, I asked her if she would like to take the helm for a while. When Sue took control of the boat I baited and trolled a couple of lines off the stern, fixed the lines, then took a seat opposite her where I could watch and relax.

The breeze was comfortable and allowed us time to relax and talk about a hundred-fifty different things--our thoughts, ambitions, our lives, a little of our histories and our wants. Sue told me about her husband--that they have been married for twenty-six years, but that they never have many days together because of his career. I told her about my life, my wife, kids and grandkids and even with all that I still have lonely times. Amazing to me how we came together so completely in such a short time--honestly sharing ourselves in our conversation while also hauling in a couple of nice sea trout, which I cleaned and prepped for the grill before putting them on ice.

Of course, while sitting and talking, I engaged in the manly art of observing Sue’s physical form. She is about five-and-a-half feet tall and I guess about 130 pounds, with enjoyable womanly curves, and a very pretty and engaging face. Her physical being is as attractive as her personality. It was amazing, too, how similar our tastes were and the ease with which our conversation deepened and became more intimate as we hinted at, and then talked about, one of the methods we both use to satisfy a necessary human need that was lacking in both of our marriages.

We both spend much (too much?) time on the internet visiting sites like ‘Lush,’ and yes, we exchanged user and internet chat IDs, agreeing not to mention our private and very personal leisure activity to anyone else. We talked about stories and chat topics that we find exciting and the kind of stuff that turns us off. I became open enough to confess to Sue that I am easily aroused when chatting with certain women. I blushingly told her that our increasingly sensual talk was arousing me and Sue laughed, leaned back, used both hands to push up her boobs while spreading her legs a little, and said, “I wanted to have some fun today and it looks as if we will have some fun today--but just remember to keep it in your pants!”

I could see now that we were within a mile of where we would anchor for lunch, so I gave the helmsman--actually, the attractive helmswoman--bearings for a rather secluded southwest beach, and then I set about lowering the main, furling the jenny and preparing to drop anchor. I have always enjoyed solo sailing, but for some reason I found myself this day really enjoying my unexpected sailing companion. It is striking how quickly a companionship can develop.

The cove where we anchored is off the wildlife refuge portion of the island so, although there are pure-white soft sandy beaches, we are not allowed to venture ashore. There were not any other boats moored within sight and the water was so clear that we could easily see the bottom fifteen feet below. I clamped the grill on the rail where it would hang outboard, arranged the coals and lit the fire. With this taken care of, I told Sue that I was going to swim while the grill heated and invited her to come along.

She laughingly exclaimed, “You got to be kidding. There is no way I’ll swim bare-assed out here with you.”

I said, “No better place. It’s just the two of us with no one in sight, except probably some birdwatchers over there with powerful binoculars.”

That said I kicked off my boat shoes, slipped off my shirt and in one swift move off came my shorts and briefs. I stepped over the stern onto the step and dove in. I surfaced probably within ten yards and floated on my back in the bright sunshine. While the water cleared from my eyes, I heard a splash behind me, felt a ripple under me and then Sue’s head broke the water a few feet in front of me. As she turned, I said something like, “Oh, you found some swimming attire.” Sue replied that she thought my bathing suit looked appropriate so she decided to wear exactly what I was wearing.

“Very nice,” I said while peering at her rippled appearance through the shimmering water. “Fits you perfectly and the color is you.” It was rather easy for me to see that Sue obviously was not accustomed to sunbathing in the nude and that the hair on her head was her natural color.

For the next several minutes, I don’t know how many, we dived, swam through legs, frolicked and fooled around--barely brushing each other--just like a couple of teenagers exploring limits. This fun and fooling very much reminded me of my 16 th summer when my friends and I visited a bunch of ‘girlfriends’ who were summering at the lakefront cabin of one of the girls’ family deep in the state forest.

I was feeling rather titillated and I imagine that Sue was, too. She announced that the grill must be ready, then swam to the boat and seated herself on the stern step, which is only a few inches out of the water. I got my first real view of her lovely naked glory as I leisurely swam toward her. Raising myself up, I rested my chin on her knees and watched her sparkling green eyes beaming from her smiling face framed by auburn hair. Smiling, too, I started tickling her knees and thighs with my beard while playfully trying to ease her knees apart. This little game went on for several minutes with me getting closer and closer to her beautiful auburn triangle.

Sue moaned softly and whimpered, “Please, Dan, please wait. I’m getting wetter and wetter and it isn’t from the Gulf waters.”

Sue playfully shoved me back into the water and swung herself over the stern giving me an enticing view of her bottom and slightly opened pussy lips, and went to the grill while announcing that she was starving. Just this quick glimpse of Sue’s womanly features awakened in me an urgency to taste this darling morsel and immediately brought my prick to full attention. As I climbed aboard, Sue watched and exclaimed, “Did I do something to wake that lovely piece of manhood? He certainly looks as he wants something--at least some affectionate attention.”

After pulling myself aboard, I stepped toward Sue and as I put my arms around her she gently told me that she wanted me to see her, look at her and enjoy, but that she was not yet ready for touching. I reluctantly accepted her wishes and stepped back a little, still admiring her soft beauty and wondering if I would be able to care for my still engorged piece.

I went into the cabin to retrieve the cooler, other foodstuff we brought aboard and utensils for cooking and eating. Sue spread the coals, sprayed the grate with anti-stick, placed it on the fire to heat, and volunteered to do the cooking while I prepared the cold stuff and fixings. I handed the perfectly cleaned fish to Sue and popped the tops on a pair of Samuel Adams Summer Ales-- a light, refreshing brew with a hint of lemon.

I admired her backside as she placed the fish on the grill and I told her that there was some SPF 26 and SFP 50 in the cabin that I would be more than happy to apply to her lily-white areas. Laughing and with a big sigh, she said, “Don’t let me stop you. I want you to apply the lotion to me, but you’re only to touch me sensually, not sexually.”

Sue chose the SPF 26 saying she should let her body color some in preparation for future outings. I squirted some on my palm and gently began massaging it into her right breast, which was a pleasant handful--maybe a 36B or C--then moved to her other breast while covering all the white in between.

By this time, her nipples were no longer ‘innies,’ but had begun to protrude, and I asked if she was now comfortable with me touching her. Sue silently nodded, so I reached around her--barely letting my body brush against hers--and massaged lotion onto her bottom cheeks, first one then the other followed by a sensual massage in the somewhat tight crevice between. My arousal was now apparent and Sue pushed her hip against my prick while asking if my massaging task was getting too hard. Her arms went under my arms, her hands grasped the back of my head and brought my lips down to hers, and we embraced like that for what seemed to be hours, but probably wasn’t more than a few seconds. We broke apart when the burning fish became apparent. Sue dashed over to resume her duties at the grill, and I finished laying out the rest of our meal.

I sliced some fresh bakery bread and put it on a tray along with sliced tomatoes, baby carrots and some salad greens, then placed the tray on one of the benches and spread a few cushions on the floor where we could sit somewhat in the shade. Sue put the grilled fish onto two plates, handed one to me, then squatted onto the cushion opposite me fully exposing her lovely jewel box to me. OH! My prick came to full attention and I moaned. I smiled as she squirmed into position and I mentioned that there was a triangle of white skin around her neatly trimmed auburn hairs that might need sun block.

Very emphatically, Sue told me that she could quite handily reach that area herself and did not need assistance from anyone. Quietly we enjoyed our luncheon--the only conversation was with eyes, Sue’s eyes and mine. A contented feeling of shared romance settled over us.

As I was reaching for two more Summer Ales, Sue asked me to pass the sun block to her. Daintily she began applying the lotion with fingertips through her short, curly hairs and on the narrow white area surrounding. I was mesmerized and did not let my eyes stray. Her little laugh brought me out of my dream and I looked up to her beaming smile as she said, “Both you and that little guy down there certainly enjoyed watching me.”

I shook my head out of its reverie and looked down to see my 70-year-old prick standing more than half erect and poking his maroon head through my gradually withdrawing foreskin. My hand started an instinctive reach to massage my prick before I politely thought to overcome the urge.

In a soft, sensual voice Sue said, “Go ahead. He needs attention. Give him some relief because I am not taking my fingers out of here until I cum.”

For the next minutes, we both pleasured ourselves while enjoying watching the other. I reached my climax first shooting onto the cushions, the deck, and a little onto her leg. She scooped it off her leg and brought it to her nose and lips and then stiffened.

All I could think was that I loved being with this woman, the pleasure of her personality and now the thrill of shared sexual relief. Had Sue planned this all along? Was our meeting on the path truly coincidental? Where do we go from here?

Sue’s climax was moderately intense and prolonged, at least prolonged compared to mine. I kind of collapsed and laid my head down near her knee. Without words, Sue rubbed my head and caressed my neck with her left hand before anointing my mustache and my lips with the essence of her pussy that graced her right hand. A very pleasing and arousing aroma and taste filled my being. Then, very softly, she told me--or maybe I just dreamed it--that someday she would like it if I would receive that taste of her at its very source.

After a few minutes of blissful recovery, we set about tidying up, which included a brief dip in the ocean to remove the odor and stickiness of our spend. Before climbing back aboard, we enjoyed a few silent moments in a very close embrace; words that were not spoken said volumes. On board, we toweled off the heavy wetness, and as I slipped into my boat shoes I asked Sue to take the helm while I weighed anchor, unfurled the jenny and hoisted the main.

Once set, I relieved Sue at the helm and set the course for home. There was a heavily laden freighter headed in-bound to Port Manatee that we would pass on her stern, so I suggested that we should put on shirts so as not to distract the sailors who were going about their prep work. I chuckled with wonder and asked Sue how we had missed seeing the pilot boat heading out to meet the ship.

Sue donned an orange blouse that she left open in the front and did nothing to hide her pretty bottom and pouting lips from my view as she lounged on the bench cushions to my right. After clearing the shipping channel, and having a favorable breeze, I set the course at about 170 degrees, heading us to the north entrance of the Intracoastal Waterway.

Our return was quiet and uneventful, but filled with conversation about just about everything, except our mutual masturbation. The most important thing being, “…this will be continued…”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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