Read It To Me

Read it to me.

Yuck. I don't even like to proofread my emails.

Please...

It's embarrassing.

More than wearing my panties that time?

No.

So read it.

As you wish...

I think I surprised my wife when she threatened divorce and I agreed. I'm not sure exactly what she was expecting but it wasn't for me to simply agree with her that it was over and that we were better off on our own. The split was anything but amicable even though I didn't try to fight her on anything. She refused arbitration and we ended up spending a fortune on attorneys to simply sell everything and split the proceeds.

If there had been any sign that it was time it was where we moved. She found a trailer in the small town she grew up. I bought a boat. Other than to discuss our son's college career we didn't speak and at times it felt as though the twenty years had never happened.

From talking with other lonely mid-forties divorced men I think I reacted about the same as most of them although perhaps a bit more successfully. For the first few months I enjoyed my new freedom with a series of divorced moms who were willing to trade sex for false promise of intimacy. The promise was never explicitly made nor implied, it was simply inferred and after two weeks of dating and rolling about in the bed below decks or more often back at their small house it would end with a shrug and a frown.

After the deluge came the drought when I simply was tired of the game. The drought ended with a younger woman from work with a broad smile. Her son was away for the summer with his dad and she enjoyed the boat, taking off for the weekend to sail around the gulf in circles. Tanya liked lying in the sun nude and I liked that she did. This time I was the one that believed us to be more than we were. When her son returned from his summer break she reasonably asked that we keep our relationship to ourselves. Finding an afternoon to sneak away for a quick romp became meeting for lunch and then nothing more than unsatisfying phone calls during which I would tell her I missed her and she would lie and say she missed me too.

Late September found me passing my free time polishing, sanding, staining and painting Ms. Anne Thrope, my 43 foot French made sloop and dipping a glass of wine with a tuna salad sandwich when the sun finally went down and it cooled off.

Robert and Laura were my neighbors. They had been gone a month having taken their big diesel powered boat south to Cozumel. It was a surprisingly pleasant afternoon when I returned from doing a little business to find their slip filled with the tall wide craft and Laura doddering around on deck. It was good to see her. She seemed pleased to see me again. There wasn't any sort of agenda with Laura. She and Robert were happily married. I found the platonic nature of my relationship to the red head relaxing. I helped her for a moment pass boxes and plastic bags willed with trash off board then begged my leave to change.

That's too much exposition.

Is it?

It's a dirty story, get dirty.

I'm setting it up.

You are trying to justify it. Just move on, they don't really care. You were lonely, bored and stoned. I was hot and you wanted me.

Okay.

There were a few aspects to living aboard a boat I hadn't expected. First, I lost a lot of weight. There was no real allure to sitting below deck and staring at a small TV for hours. I spent most of my spare time working on the boat. There isn't enough storage for a bunch of food so I tended to buy just what I wanted to eat on any given day and if I wasn't motivated enough to go to the store I made due with a tuna salad sandwich or BLT.

The second thing you learn quickly is that you need to get along with your Neighbors. There is no six foot block wall separating you from them. On warm quiet nights you can hear what they are watching on television or listen in to their conversations. You hear other things as well. During the month they were gone he had forgotten. That first night they were back he remembered. As they made love less than twenty feet away with the small windows open to the light breeze that stirred the rigging he heard the soft moans she made as they began to make love and the passionate cries she let loose at the moment of climax. It left him lonely and aroused. A call to his girlfriend went unanswered and the speed at which he found himself sent to voicemail left him certain she had silenced his call rather than take it. He fantasized about the married woman in the next slip before allowing the sway of the boat to press him into sleep.

The other thing he hadn't expected but probably could have anticipated was the ever-present aroma of Marijuana. Texas was a strange place. He had quickly come to understand that it isn't as conservative as it is libertarian. Unlike the Bible belt, Texas has an equal appreciation for your right to ogle boobies on Saturday night and your right to praise Jesus the next morning. As much as they are willing to string up a drug dealer for selling weed out of the back of a '86 Buick regal, they really don't give a shit if you light up a joint in the privacy of your own home. In the Marina the weed came from "Ger-mo." Guillermo was the dockhand at the Shell station where we bought our marine Diesel and he carried a broad selection of imported and domestic strains. Friday had gone well. Two orders, months in the making, both came in. I tried to get Tanya to go to dinner but the conversation was cool and distant and I got the message. Rather than steaks I bought pre-rolled joints manufactured in Oregon and spun up a little Steely Dan and opened an expensive Pinot I had been holding onto for too long.

It might have been the fact I hadn't seen Tanya in more than a month. It might have been the chemically altered paths the little sparks in my brain were following. I can't say for certain. I don't think she meant to be alluring. She was dressed no differently than normal in short navy shorts and a small thin tank that stretched tight across her large mature breasts but I think for the first time I noticed her in that way. Her breasts bobbed and quaked as she walked. Her red hair, loose rather than tied back was blown by the wind and when she called out to me she shook her head in that perfect sort of way that tossed it out of her eyes.

"Oh my god, can I have one?" she called up to me. I didn't smoke as much as I used to but I still kept a pack around. Laura was known to mooch them when they wandered aboard for a cocktail or glass of wine.

"Um, sure." I said. I coughed, distracted I had taken far too long a drag.

She climbed aboard. Her breasts swayed and bobbed with every move she made and I sat enthralled. How had I not noticed. As she cleared away my tools I studied her ass. It was broad and soft and I found myself wanting it.

She took a cigarette out of the pack. She didn't necessarily make any acknowledgement that the cigarette in my hand wasn't a cigarette at all. She simply took it from me and took a couple of quick draws of it.

That was intentional.

Was it?

All of it. I could smell what you were doing. I took the trash out just as an excuse.

You're so bad

I know. I had to walk up to the cans three times before you noticed.

Did you?

You, my love, were baked.

Sorry.

Don't be. It's interesting to hear your point of view.

I'm not taking too long to get to the good parts?

Oh, no. You definitely are taking too long to get to the good parts.

Alright, I'll hurry.

No, it's fine. You can edit it down later.

Okay.

We alternated between tobacco and marijuana and the afternoon settled into evening. Relaxed and happy we didn't really talk. She asked me a couple of times about my girlfriend and I tried to wrap my head around Tanya and what had happened. It was a lot to try to process. I found myself confusing my lusty memories of nights on the boat with the younger brunette and the delightfully sensual red head with freckles and pink skin in front of me.

"Where's Robert?" I asked again not realizing it was about the third time we had discussed her husband and his supply run. Each time we did she pulled out her phone and asked him to pick up something else. This time it was Corn chips. I had to agree with her, I had never wanted Nacho flavored corn chips more.

"Where's your hammock?" she asked innocently.

It wasn't innocent.

No?

Nope.

As much of a pain as it was to go below, dig out the hammock, string it between the mizzen and main masts and then coordinate our drunken and stoned movements to get into it I found myself obsessed with having to get it done. The effort and concentration necessary to accomplish hanging it sobered me up but once we had settled into it, my head at one end, hers at the other, our bodies pressed together by the natural physics of it I found a degree of bliss I hadn't expected. The sun was setting and the sky was darkening. An orange glow was cast across everything my eyes took in. Laura's hand, wrapped around my thigh was uncomfortably exciting.

Then I noticed her hand.

I had been staring at her for what felt like hours but mostly I had been focused on her barely open eyes and the freckles scattered over her cheeks and shoulders. I moaned when I noticed her had cupping her large breast through the thin material of her tank.

I watched as her chest swelled with each breath and studied how she held each inhale a moment to stroke her clearly firm nipple with her thumbnail. It was hot and humid. It was too hot to be coupled together like we were and sweat made our flesh slick where it touched. I moved my leg just slightly to get comfortable and enjoyed too much the feel of her against me. She moved as well, only slightly. We wriggled against each other slowly, the moments slow, deliberate, and probably because of the pot and wine extremely sexual.

"Are you watching me?" she asked barely above a whisper. I wasn't sure she had actually said something or if I had imagined it.

"Yes." I replied.

She smiled.

Her hand moved to the buttons of her shorts. I watched it as intently as it fumbled and eventually released first one, and then a second. Her fingers disappeared. Her legs parted. She was nesteled in between my calves. She sighed a little. I found myself focused on her slightly parted lips and the way she gasped for breath and then exhaled slowly as if doing yoga.

Her smile contorted as if she was in pain. The world seemed to shake around me although it was just the quick movements of her hand inside of her pants moving more rapidly.

She bit her lower lip.

She grunted.

Her face softened.

Her smile returned.

I wondered if I had imagined it all.

You did.

Did what?

Imagined it. I did not jack off in front of you.

I'm pretty sure you did.

No...

"I feel like I should object to this." Came a deep but cheerful voice. It somehow felt like it came both from right on top of us and also from some place far in the distance. I sensed it was Robert and although I still didn't look away from his wife I could see him distinctly in my mind calling out to us from the bridge of his motor yacht.

"Oh shit." I muttered.

"You better not." She called back to him surprisingly loudly.

"Head's up!" I heard. It started me to attention and I opened my eyes wide and raised my hands defensively only to be accosted by a flying back of Cool Ranch Doritos.

"I knew there was a reason I stay married to you." Laura said almost as though singing. Hungrily she took the bag from me and tore it open.

I don't remember any of this.

No?

Not at all.

Well that makes me feel bad.

Why?

Makes me think I took advantage of you.

That's silly.

What, why? If you were so out of it you don't remember.

You worried you took advantage of me?

Now I am.

Ha ha ha ha... No. As I remember it you were scared to death. You were all shaking. You thought Robert was going to storm the ship gun in hand. I think you even asked me if he had a gun.

That I don't remember.

Well go on then. I like hearing how you remember it. I can't believe I did that. God, I never masturbate.

Maybe I made it up.

Maybe.

Approaching fifty I can remember many mornings when, having drank too much I would recall snippets of the night before and guilt and regret would make me more nauseous then my handover. Stoned out of my mind I found I was feeling the regret already and wished I was drunk enough to black out.

"Permission to come aboard?" My friend Robert called out. I had a moment when I thought it best to say no. His wife was wrapped up in my arms and legs though, it seemed rude.

"Dude." I replied.

The tall gray haired man stepped up and into my boat. I struggled to free myself and Laura insisted I quit moving, I was going to dump us out and break something. I did as I was told I settled myself still again moving only far enough to steal a handful of her chips. I felt I needed to say something, explain something, be a good host and offer my friend a drink. I really felt I needed to extricate myself from his wife's soft thick thighs. Strangely, he seemed fine with the whole thing and even, inconceivably, delighted by the whole mess.

"You are stoned out of your gourd, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am."

God I loved her smile as she flirted with him.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Not yet, but I expect to."

"Our friend know what he is in for?"

"I doubt it. He seems receptive though." I felt myself groped, her hand on my crotch. "Yup. Yup. Definitely."

They talked a while longer and I struggled to keep up but it escapes me now.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course."

"Take us out into the bay?"

"I can do that."

"Trip, you cool with me piloting your boat?"

"Uh..." It was a ridiculous question. I could live on Ms. Anne the rest of my life and never have the hours at sea Robert had. "Of course. Where are we going? Should we go some place."

"We should get out of the marina. It will be better."

"Sure."

There was commotion and turmoil and despite repeatedly trying to help she held me there, going so far as to hold my cock to keep me where I was. Ger-mo helped Robert disconnect the power and cast off the lines and felt rather than heard the grumble of the little diesel motor come to life and back us out of the slip. For a minute or two I was worried I would throw up, the pungent exhaust was overwhelming but once he had us moving forward and out of the marina towards the bay the air cleared and the night cooled. I had my eyes closed and was running my fingers along Laura's calf when Robert called out to us that we were passing beneath the bridge.

She started me and I felt bad, sure I had fallen to sleep I couldn't help but think I was being rude.

"You can lick whatever you want while you recover?"

"Recover from what?"

"Recover from my world famous porn star blow job."

"World famous?"

"Mmmm."

"Trip?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to see my breasts?"

"Mmmmm." I couldn't speak. Somehow she managed to rock forward enough to lift herself off the hammock and pull her little tank off her chest and over her head. I sat in awe, paralyzed, unable to form words I moaned at the luxurious full breast, her great round nipples, the soft flesh exposed to me.

I think she asked if I liked them and I think I moaned in the affirmative.

It was almost acrobatic the way she then lifted her short strong legs into the air and tugged off her shorts. She moved to remove lacey deep purple panties and I think I growled at her. I didn't want them off. I liked the decoration. She smiled and chattered at me in a vulgar delightful way. My mouth watered.

That's funny.

What's funny?

Paralyzed and unable to talk?"

Yeah.

So. Normally... Yeah. You are the strong silent type. I don't think you said more than Hi to me for the first six months I knew you.

I can be that way.

Not when you're stoned.

I think its worse when I'm stoned.

It's the opposite.

The opposite?

Yeah, Mr. chatter away. I think the pot turns off whatever filter you have.

It does?

The whole way out of the marina you laid there looking at me, stroking my foot, and telling me how you were going to lick me, suck me, nibble me.

I did?

You do all the time.

I do not!

You're cute. Go back to the story. We are finally to the good part.

Trying to get all 6 feet three inches and 220 pounds of me out of my shorts, boxers, and T-shirt in a hammock on a boat as we negotiated the chop from the wake of all the boats returning as we were setting out left us giggling and panting. A water bottle appeared from somewhere, I am sure courtesy of our pilot and after taking long drinks to quench our dry mouths she poured the icy water down my chest waking me up and causing me to howl into the night air filled with only the dull grumble of the boat's motor.

I tried to kiss her and her hand fell gently on my chest.

"I want to but it's against the rules."

I moaned sadly, imagining my lips on hers.

"This isn't though." She said. It took her just a moment to move down my body. I felt her breasts on my belly and then brush against my cock. When she was settled between my legs, her ass, broad and pale in the glow of an almost full moon she slipped her mouth over me, descending down almost to the hilt.

'It's fat!" she purred. Then did it again, a long wet gentle caress "You are going to split me open." She said. Then she stopped talking.

Honestly, it was not a porn blow-job. She was slow and deliberate about it. There was none of that gagging you see in the movies. She didn't bob her head violently but instead caressed and massaged me, slipping her tongue over my cock discovering the most sensitive areas, the spots eliciting a moan or a groan. She teased more then tormented.

"Tell me when you are close." she whispered. I had heard such a thing before, it was common and I am not going to complain if a woman is willing to delight me this thoroughly, she is free to finish me however she pleases. Disappointed, maybe, a little, but again, I'm not going to complain.

I grunted. "Now."

"No." she told me firmly. She pressed her finger firmly beneath my balls and then, looking me in the eye, took them, my full sack, and sucked it into her mouth.

It hurt.

It hurt good.

I could swear she grinned.

Her tongue spun around my poor testes until I was groaning, gripping the hammock.

"ARRRRRGGghhhhh!" I squealed into the night.

"Now!" she commanded. Her mouth took my cock again, just the head of it. Her tongue knew exactly where to go and it struck me like a Mike Tyson punch to the kidneys, the most explosive, uncontrolled, demented, sensational orgasm of my life.

"Mmm hmmmm!" she encouraged me. "mmmm Hmmm!"

Cum exploded everywhere. It broke through the seal of her lips and dripped down my pulsing dick. She was unrelenting, I writhed and fought against her but there was no relief from the splendid agony of it.

When finally I could open my eyes I watched her. Her lips and tongue worked at my cock as though she was savoring a melting ice cream cone on a hot day.

I quivered at her touch.

"Fuck." I muttered. "Wholly fuck." I chanted.

Her grin was intoxicating.

Keep reading.

What are you doing?

What do you think? A girl likes to hear her work is appreciated.

It's all... cummy.

Mmmm hmmm!

Oh wow.

Mmmm Hmmm!

You make it hard to focus.

Read.

Don't stop.

Mmmmmm

"Come. We need to get down."

"Aww."

"Come." I begged her. I twisted and rolled and extricated myself from her and more or less fell from the hammock to the deck.

"We're almost there." Robert said startling me. My post orgasmic sobriety was an illusion. I had forgotten he was there, that we were moving, that I was naked.

'Not below, not yet." She said. I turned and looked at her and saw lips and tits and pussy and had to have her.