Boat Story
Imagine a day that goes something like this:
You wake up in the morning in a comfortable bed in the tropics.
The day, you know promises to be hot, but you also know that
where you are going the heat will be welcome. You wrap a sarong
around yourself and head to the kitchen for coffee and a
light breakfast.
Out the sliding glass doors you see that the wind is down,
and you think, good; so will the seas be.
Others are stirring now, coming out of their rooms dressed
much like you. You notice that someone had awakened before
you- one of the guys- and is now at the boat loading gear.
You decide to join him; getting anxious to be under way.
When you reach the dock you say, No wind, and he looks up
and smiles replying, Ought to be fantastic.
He is on the boat stowing gear, and you begin to hand him what
remains on the dock. As you do so you run through the mental
checklist, ticking off each item as you work; tanks, regulators,
BCs, weights, masks, wet-suits, fins...
The others are coming down now; your love is carrying the
personal gear- towels, sun screen, cameras, etcetera-
as is one of the others. The last two are carrying between
them the cooler full of water, juice, snacks, and for the
ride home; cold beer.
The activity around you has taken on a new intensity. Still
relaxed casual, but more focused; the anticipation of
the sea has taken the group. The motor starts and you man
the bow line, awaiting the signal to cast off. You get the
nod, and immediately toss the line into the boat. Placing
one foot on the gunnel, you push off with the other, and carefully
step over the rail and down into the boat. You settle down
on the cushioned seat and relax into the feeling of being
under way.
After a fifteen minute ride through inland waters, you
reach open ocean. You scan the horizon and see to your satisfaction,
that there are no boats near you. You carefully stand, and
release your sarong, letting it fall to the floor of the
boat. Under it you have on nothing else. The others follow
you, and soon there are six sarongs similarly piled on
the deck. All are now standing, holding some part of the
boat with one hand, the other raised in the breeze; happy
content smiles their only adornment.
You look appreciatively at the bodies of your companions.
You catch the eye of your love, and see appreciation there
as well. A week of daily ocean excursions has bronzed each
persons body into an almost idealized version of themselves.
There is one woman in the group whos smooth black skin has
taken on an otherworldly glow.
Everyone is sitting again, beginning to sort through their
gear. You look over the bow of the boat toward the approaching
dive sight. Good, you think; because the other dive boats
are clumped together at the south end of the reef. You will
have no need to get into your wetsuit before you get to your
destination; the City of Washington ship wreak.
The boat is now tied in to the mooring buoy, making a gentle
lapping sound in the calm water, and you make your way to
the stern to throw out the dive ball. You toss it overboard
and watch to see what kind of current there is. It drifts
gently aft indicating little to none. You look down into
the azure waters of the southern Atlantic, and see that-
much as you had hoped- the water is crystal clear.
The flag is up, the ladder is down, the boat is prepared to
be abandoned. Your companions are in their wetsuits and
are preparing to get into their BCs. You move forward,
to clear the way for them, and to get into your wetsuit.
There is a splash followed quickly by another as the first
couple roll off the stern of the boat. You look back and see
that the second couple are in the final stages of preparation.
It is time to lend a hand, so you grab the few bits of gear you
have not yet put on, and head aft. You and your love each help
one of the two remaining into their BCs, perform a buddy
check, assist in getting them into position, and with a
smile and a wave they are gone.
Now it is just you and your love. You have been diving together
enough to know exactly when and what kind of help you each
need, and with easy efficiency you are ready to depart the
surface world. With a quick check behind you, you roll back
and with a splash enter the water. There is a moments disorientation
which clears quickly as the warm waters envelope you like
a lost memory of the womb.
As you descend your love swims to your side and takes your
hand, and together you fall toward the ocean floor. About
ten feet from the bottom you inflate your BC and slowly your
descent is arrested. You are now hovering three feet over
the reef, taking note of formations around you and checking
the position of the boat above you. Once oriented you swim
off to find the octopus you are going to attempt to photograph
today.
Along the way you pass the lair of the large-ish Green Moray
you photographed a few days ago, and see that he is poking
his head out in his curious way. You smile, remembering
how your love had tantalized him out of his hole with bits
of cut up squid, and how surprisingly docile he was when
handled. Your lifelong image of the Green Moray as a wicked
predator forever altered by this encounter.
You reach the pilot house, search for and find the hunk of
torn-up metal laying near the northeast corner of what
remained of the hundred year old structure. Under it- you
were told the other day- you could hope to find a good sized
octopus. With luck, it would come right out and crawl up
your arm. Today it is your turn to entice the sea life into
photographic poses.
Before you even reach the metal sheet, you see that luck
is going to be with you, for out from under a low overhang
you see a single eye sitting atop what looks like the lower
lip of a hippopotamus. As you approach, the other eye appears,
and soon one, then another, and finally all eight tentacles
have emerged. You see a flash, and hear the high pitched
ring of the flash capacitor recharging, and think, Good,
at least there will be one shot.
Time to attempt a close up. You reach your gloved hand out
and stir up the sand just in front of the octopus. It retreats
just a little, but then gathers courage and slings a single
tentacle over your hand. The tricky part now is to keep still,
(not an easy task while floating in the ocean) for if you
even twitch it will be gone in the blink of an eye. You manage,
and suddenly it crawls/swims right up your arm to your shoulder.
You look to your love and Flash! The camera goes off. The
octopus gets on your head and Flash! Another picture. Then
it is gone... you look around but it has disappeared like
a dream.
Wonder is all you feel as you smile around your mouthpiece.
You high five each other and, still smiling, head back to
the boat. As you reach the boat and begin ascending to the
fifteen foot safety stop you see the legs of one of the couples
just leaving the water. A sense of anticipation grips you
as you ponder the telling of your story. You know, that the
others will have stories to tell as well, and that the adventures
of the day have just begun.
As you reach the surface and climb the ladder, you look forward
and see that the other couples have both arrived before
you, removed and stowed their gear, striped off their wetsuits,
and were now washing each other off with the fresh water
shower. You look around and see the other dive boats have
left, and smile as one of the others comes to help you remove
your tank and BC. As they stow this, you take off your mask
and fins, and wipe the inevitable snot from your face. (Salt
water entering the nasal passage is a fantastic decongestant,
an effect which once upon a time caused you some embarrassment)
As you begin to stand you feel someone unzipping your wetsuit.
This is new.
It is always easier to get a wet wetsuit off with the aid of
another. So far on this trip, each couple had assisted their
other half in doing so. Now, it is apparent, a point of comfort
with each other has been gained. A thrill passes through
you; thoughts of your dive momentarily forgotten. You
look over your shoulder to see your love is being similarly
treated. Your eyes meet and an unspoken acknowledgment
passes between you. You look at the other couples and can
tell by the intensity of their looks they have reached the
same conclusion.
Your wetsuit is striped the rest of the way off and you are
left standing naked, shivering slightly in the rising
breeze. You and your love are escorted to the shower and
washed down. You close your eyes and feel anonymous hands
scrubbing the salt from your body. The water shuts off and
you are handed a towel.
As you dry yourself you notice the second wave of commercial
boats are on their way to this sight. You sigh a resigned
but content sigh, knowing that what is looking to be a great
adventure will have a short intermission.
As the boat is started once again and the mooring loosed,
you retrieve some strawberries and whipped cream from
the cooler, and one of the others gets out some cheese and
crackers. The boat gets underway again but slowly this
time. The breeze has kicked up the seas a bit and there is
no point in an uncomfortable ride. You cant dive again
for about an hour, and the next sight is only about forty
five minutes at a fast idle.
Along the way you are feeding strawberries and whipped
cream, or cheese and crackers to each other, and all the
while you are touching each other. The touching is not aggressive,
nor is it accidental. One of the men takes a strawberry heaped
with whipped cream, and offers it to the black woman. Rather
than taking it in her hand or mouth, she quite deliberately
leans over and touches her erect nipple to the cream. She
then plucks the strawberry from his hand and pops it into
his mouth. She wipes the cream from her breast with a long
delicate finger and slurps it off, leaving just a bit in
the corner of her mouth, which she then very slowly and gracefully
licks clean.
You all applaud this performance and immediately begin
to attempt to out do it. The rest of the ride to the next sight,
the dive, and the ride to the sight after that is a continual
acceleration of the excitement, until, during the last
dive you are all under water hugging and dry humping each
other. This is a new feeling for you; weightless group groping.
There are people above, below, and beside you all spinning
in a swirl of underwater ecstasy.
The first overt sex occurs on the trip home. The girl who
is part of the host couple, kneels between the forward benches
and takes one of the men into her mouth. Like popping the
cork of a champaign bottle, this action releases a burst
of sexual delirium, and quickly, five of the six of you are
entwined. You notice the pour soul who is piloting the boat
is excluded, and disentangle yourself- somewhat unwillingly-
to go relieve them.
You are rewarded with viewing one of the most satisfying
group sex scenes you have witnessed. No porn scene can ever
eclipse what you are now watching. They are groping each
other almost desperately, like they are trying to climb
inside of each other. Now one of the women mounts a man and
invites another man to enter her from behind. As he enters
her she emits a low groan of pain/pleasure, and squeezes
the man beneath her tightly. The man on her back squeezes
them both, and the last two wrap the three of them in their
arms and squeeze. They are all in motion and the boat is in
motion and soon the girl screams. Then she sighs a quivering
sigh, and they all separate. Now they begin to address one
another one at a time. One is laying across the benches and
the others begin to caress them. When one is satisfied another
takes their place.
So engrossed in this are you that you just notice you are
approaching the channel that leads to the inland waters,
and there are other boats approaching yours. With some
difficulty you get the attention of the others, and hurriedly
you all begin to search for, and to put on your sarongs. Disheveled
and happy you and your gang enter the channel. The boat owner
takes the helm from you and you join the others in the bow.
You look a question at them, Are you finished? and you
think to yourself God I hope not, for you are as aroused
as you have ever been.
You sigh in relief when a hand touches your leg and moves
up your inner thigh. The others begin to fondle each other
discretely where they sit, barley containing their laughter
as other boats pass in the other direction, the people on
them waving happily at you oblivious to what is happening
just below their sight-line.
It is now late afternoon, and your plan is to go to the house,
clean the gear, shower, put on some clothes, and go out for
dinner and drinks. You feel reluctant now to follow through
with this plan. You would rather just have sex.
One of the others asks if there is any beer in the cooler.
You check and, surprised say no. Somehow in the midst of
all that sex they had managed to drink a twelve pack. You
see the opening you need to forestall other plans.
Lets go to the Carribean Club and pick up some beer and rum
runners on the way home you say.
Great, they chime in at once. It seems there is no need
for forestalling after all. To the Carribean Club Captain!
Says one of the guys.
What about how we are dressed? asks one of the women. The
hosts laugh, This is Florida! they say, the locals
expect visitors to behave strangely.
On the way, you dig in to the first aid kit to collect the money
kept hidden there. Arriving at the dock you see that the
locals have already begun to gather for sundown. You and
your recently sated love head up the dock for the bar. You
both get appreciative hoots from the men and women on shore.
Maybe they can tell from your appearance what has been going
on and know instinctively what will soon be going on again.
You make it to the bar and order up a dozen each beer, and a
rum runners. The bartender raises his eyebrows at the size
of the order but turns to mix the drinks. He has to find lids
and a box for you to carry them in, and he bags your beer. On
the way out, the thickening crowd really hoots and hollers
now, because they see the load of drinks and are sure they
know what you are up to.
As you approach the dock your friends on the boat begin to
flash the crowd. The girls are opening their sarongs and
the guys are lifting theirs. This action causes the crowd
to go wild. They are cheering now and screaming Take it
off!. As you reach the boat your friends oblige the crowd
and drop their sarongs. You hand the drinks to them and
decide what the hell, and drop yours right on the dock.
Your love follows suit. Now there are three proud erections
silhouetted by the setting sun, and three women unabashedly
holding them.
The crowd is now chanting, Do it, do it, do it, and to your
surprise one of the women drops to her knees and begins a
vigorous blow job on her man. You see him respond to this
and almost reluctantly begin to move against her. His excitement
is growing and so is that of the crowd. they are chanting
faster and faster, and she is responding with more , and
more vigorous stroking.
Eventually the rhythm is more than she can keep up with and
she places her hand on him and pulls her head back. He is fucking
her hand and open mouth now; he has lost any inhibition or
control he had. She gives him a couple of fast strokes with
her hand and he cums.
From were you are standing on the dock you see his sperm,
black in silhouette, but glinting around the edges, splatter
her face. Though the crowd is a good distance away, they
either see the same thing or else they sense what just happened.
For they are utterly quiet now. Then they applaud. The applause
grows to a crescendo and you begin to here bravo, and encore.
You decide to get on the boat then and there, for two reasons:
One is that you find yourself wanting to perform for the
crowd, and the other is that you just want to get the hell
out into the sound and pick up where you and your friends
left off.
The others must feel the same because they are untying the
boat, and casting off. The couple who had just provided
such explicit entertainment for the crowd clamor onto
the stern and bow as the boat moves out from the dock. The
cheering erupts anew, but fades rapidly as the boat picks
up speed heading into the setting sun.
It is a short fast trip out of Blackwater sound and into Florida
bay, and you collect your thoughts along the way. Never
in your wildest, most extreme fantasies had you ever imagined
being involved in something like what just happened. Yet
you find yourself excited in a way you have never experienced
in a life rich with fantasy. Well you think, I can sort
that out later. Right now I could use one of those drinks.
You pull two rum runners out of the cooler offering them
to the two who performed. They take them and drink deeply.
You offer a drink to each of the others, all accepted, and
finally pull one out for yourself. The boat is stopped by
now; the motor shut down. you are all gathered in a sort of
v-shaped circle in the bow. You each silently raise your
cups to each other. You gather your thoughts, and say May
we live to be old and senile, but never forget the fantastic
day we have shared together. Drink down boys and girls,
and lets waste no time getting back to it.
They sense your need, understanding all that you have witnessed,
but not experienced, they enshroud you with themselves,
and you descend into their warmth with an almost memory
of the womb. And you think to yourself...
Wonderful
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