#751) Lines Like a Yacht

It was wintertime, and she wasn’t ready, ready physically to be cold for months on end, but more, ready mentally.

So she took all her savings and booked a trip to Hawaii, not knowing what she’d do there, besides staying warm and mostly unclothed.

In her string bikini, that barely covered anything, she’d go swimming, and sunbathing, and window-shopping, and out to eat; it was the beach, everything was casual.

Sitting on a restaurant’s patio, nursing a cup of coffee, she first spotted him, and then he her. He was older, elegantly dressed, clearly old money. As you know, she was young, hardly dressed, clearly without much money.

He approached, leaned down, whispered in her ear, “You have the sleek lines of a well-crafted yacht.”

“Why, thank you,” she smiled.

He pointed at the boats in the harbor, to the largest, sleekest, most awesome one of all, and softly stated, “That’s mine. I know yachts, know a fast one when I see one.”

“Oh, my…!” was all she could muster, the impressive ship’s sighting had taken her breath away.

“Would you like to come aboard and see her, up close?”

“Very much.”

He took her by the hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, escorted her past the harbor guard and onboard, then took her on a tour, which took a long time, given the ship’s size. They exchanged names, made other small talk effortlessly, mostly commented on the sublime ship.

They ended up in his cabin, quarters that were sumptuous beyond her dreams. He kissed her and she let him.

“I’m old enough to be your daddy,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“I know,” she responded in kind. “And I have serious daddy-issues…” and continued the kiss.

“Let’s see how serious…” he replied when their mouths finally parted. “I’m going to spank you now…” He sat on the edge of the bed. She went over his lap willingly, with the slightest smirk on her face.

It was no game of patty-cake. It was an honest to goodness, sound spanking, the kind that wiped that smile right off. When he was done, and had burnished her bottom to a warm glow in the dimly lit cabin, he parted her.

Finding her sex not just aroused but drenched, he remarked, “Well, you passed that test. Are you ready for the next one?” and he produced a foiled-wrapped condom.

By way of saying yes, she showed him her trick of putting the rubber in her mouth to put it over his erection. He was impressed, but not so much as to keep him from pressing his point home, arguing his case very articulately without words that he should be her lover.

She came, then came again, with an ease and facility of one who obviously loves sex, finds it the best means of self-expression.

“Are you a professional?” he asked. “It’s okay if you are, I just need to know, though…”

She laughed with that same ease, “No, just experienced… We match-up very nicely… as Top and bottom, as lovers… speaking of which, do you want to finish up in my bottom? …it’s nice and tight… it’s oh, so nasty, and I like sex to be nasty…”

Needless to say, her counter argument in the case was a winning one. That very day, they set sail for Australia, the first day of a long, lovely relationship.

2 responses to “#751) Lines Like a Yacht”

    • You made me smile, partly from the compliment, thank you, partly from reality. The captain has to prefer a narrow bow (good for cutting through rough seas) and a broad stern (do they still have poop decks?). This shipmate prefers harsh discipline like Capt. Blye. There can’t be enough flogging!
      Jean Marie


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