So, boats are pretty cool. They rock back and forth, they have lovely stories behind them. And I like stories, stories are pretty fun. I've always prided myself in my ability to ignore whatever was going on in my head or in my body and listen to a good story. But sometimes, life does amazing things, and you find yourself completely entranced. Everything you were sure about yourself is now unpredictable; all the sureness in the human body is so hyperfocused that sometimes, breathing takes a large effort.
Vacations are pretty cool. They serve as mental and physical getaways from the outside world and the basic civilization that's often so trying that only your morning coffee will save you from going batshit fucking insane. But this time, as luck would have it, this particular vacation will do the opposite for the lucky girl who is not going.
But, cutting the bullshit, I had quite the interesting day. He picked me up early, and he's always a pleasant surprise with his choice of place. I expected nothing except for his room for two hours as his family was bustling around downstairs. Nature has always been a lovely thing. And let me tell you, at 10:30 in the morning, parks are damn near deserted. We walked and spoke, and this nervousness began to grow inside me. It will always sound strange, but whenever I know I'm going to do so much as kiss him, I fear I'll never be able to stop. We walked and sat and spoke and walked some more until we were standing on a rock in the middle of a river. The top of my bathing suit untied and my breasts were freed from their nylon-spandex cagings. His mouth swiftly found its way to my breast, and this jolt went through my body so that it was all I could to to not get weak kneed. He utilized every facet of his mouth in ways text couldn't begin to describe, and I was in a very special brand of ecstasy. However, like most things in life, there was a time limit placed on seclusion. I retied my bathing suit and fixed my shirt, and hand by hand we returned to his car.
In the car ride with his family, from his house to our destination, we were one seat apart. I have never before regarded one car seat as such an unfathomably painful distance.
Our destination was a lovely boat, where a family gathering of sorts was being held. I aided his family in loading certain items onto the boat, walking next to him, unable to think about anything else but skin on skin, silent screams of pure bliss and relief, a togetherness so absolute. Soon enough, we had done our piece with the loading, and made our way downstairs to the pier bathroom. There was a rickety Foosball table with an old red couch next to it. We sat ourselves on the old red couch, sitting at first, then we had our arms wrapped around each other, and then finally a series of long-awaited deeply passionate kisses. No matter what changes are made in life, the tongue will always remain my favorite muscle. In our time in the bathroom lobby, I was feeling a spot braver than I normally do. My hand found its way to his erect cock, obvious through his embarrassingly flimsy shorts, maybe five years old. Shorts, boxers, skin: three. We kissed some more as he slid his hand up the bottom of my shorts and under my panties, resting it there with an unintentional cruelty. Every time someone would descend the stairs to actually use a bathroom for what it's for, we'd untangle ourselves and fold into more nonchalant positioning. This back and forth continued until we decided to move to a bathroom stall. I could have sworn I checked everywhere. I could have sworn the coast was clear. We made our way into a stall, I put down the seat, sat down, and the passionate tongue war commenced once again... for all of ten seconds. One of the security/bouncer men, a large guy in a red shirt, paced by, and in a deep voice, grumbled "Come out of there, man." At first, I was unsure he was even talking to us, but it became more apparent as the seconds rolled by that he was. I made my way out first, smiling politely to him and walking up the stairs, waiting at the top for him to emerge. Soon after, he quickly made his way up to me, and we moved ourselves to a bench, a walk away from the pier. On that bench, we tried as hard as we could to be publically decent, with smaller kisses, until we moved on to larger, longer ones. Every kiss gives me this warm, twisting feeling inside my body that I swear can be better than an orgasm. We kissed and sat and spoke until it was time to board, where we sat, feigning a purely platonic relationship while burning for each other. "Captivating" doesn't even begin to describe the few scraps of time we received to be alone together.
However, before boarding, the same big bouncer guy with his friend politely reminded us of the power he has to...enlighten...his family to our previous antics in the bathroom. We both acted understanding and polite, which was received well. Still, when we got on the boat, we were both at least a spot shaken. It wasn't until we were able to slink away from the buoyant red vessel, and see his family's smiling faces, ignorant of what had, and could have, happened with regards to our friend, the bouncer, that either of us could breathe an honest sigh of relief.
He leaves for vacation in about ten minutes. It's highly difficult to describe what I'll feel in his absence. A dull, constant throbbing inside me. A feeling of longing stronger than the inane human need to eat and drink. Feelings so strong, text can't begin to go about explaining them. Vacations are pretty cool. They serve as mental and physical getaways from the outside world and the basic civilization that's often so trying that only your morning coffee will save you from going batshit fucking insane. Never before have I wanted to be someone's morning coffee this badly.
Vacations are pretty cool. They serve as mental and physical getaways from the outside world and the basic civilization that's often so trying that only your morning coffee will save you from going batshit fucking insane. But this time, as luck would have it, this particular vacation will do the opposite for the lucky girl who is not going.
But, cutting the bullshit, I had quite the interesting day. He picked me up early, and he's always a pleasant surprise with his choice of place. I expected nothing except for his room for two hours as his family was bustling around downstairs. Nature has always been a lovely thing. And let me tell you, at 10:30 in the morning, parks are damn near deserted. We walked and spoke, and this nervousness began to grow inside me. It will always sound strange, but whenever I know I'm going to do so much as kiss him, I fear I'll never be able to stop. We walked and sat and spoke and walked some more until we were standing on a rock in the middle of a river. The top of my bathing suit untied and my breasts were freed from their nylon-spandex cagings. His mouth swiftly found its way to my breast, and this jolt went through my body so that it was all I could to to not get weak kneed. He utilized every facet of his mouth in ways text couldn't begin to describe, and I was in a very special brand of ecstasy. However, like most things in life, there was a time limit placed on seclusion. I retied my bathing suit and fixed my shirt, and hand by hand we returned to his car.
In the car ride with his family, from his house to our destination, we were one seat apart. I have never before regarded one car seat as such an unfathomably painful distance.
Our destination was a lovely boat, where a family gathering of sorts was being held. I aided his family in loading certain items onto the boat, walking next to him, unable to think about anything else but skin on skin, silent screams of pure bliss and relief, a togetherness so absolute. Soon enough, we had done our piece with the loading, and made our way downstairs to the pier bathroom. There was a rickety Foosball table with an old red couch next to it. We sat ourselves on the old red couch, sitting at first, then we had our arms wrapped around each other, and then finally a series of long-awaited deeply passionate kisses. No matter what changes are made in life, the tongue will always remain my favorite muscle. In our time in the bathroom lobby, I was feeling a spot braver than I normally do. My hand found its way to his erect cock, obvious through his embarrassingly flimsy shorts, maybe five years old. Shorts, boxers, skin: three. We kissed some more as he slid his hand up the bottom of my shorts and under my panties, resting it there with an unintentional cruelty. Every time someone would descend the stairs to actually use a bathroom for what it's for, we'd untangle ourselves and fold into more nonchalant positioning. This back and forth continued until we decided to move to a bathroom stall. I could have sworn I checked everywhere. I could have sworn the coast was clear. We made our way into a stall, I put down the seat, sat down, and the passionate tongue war commenced once again... for all of ten seconds. One of the security/bouncer men, a large guy in a red shirt, paced by, and in a deep voice, grumbled "Come out of there, man." At first, I was unsure he was even talking to us, but it became more apparent as the seconds rolled by that he was. I made my way out first, smiling politely to him and walking up the stairs, waiting at the top for him to emerge. Soon after, he quickly made his way up to me, and we moved ourselves to a bench, a walk away from the pier. On that bench, we tried as hard as we could to be publically decent, with smaller kisses, until we moved on to larger, longer ones. Every kiss gives me this warm, twisting feeling inside my body that I swear can be better than an orgasm. We kissed and sat and spoke until it was time to board, where we sat, feigning a purely platonic relationship while burning for each other. "Captivating" doesn't even begin to describe the few scraps of time we received to be alone together.
However, before boarding, the same big bouncer guy with his friend politely reminded us of the power he has to...enlighten...his family to our previous antics in the bathroom. We both acted understanding and polite, which was received well. Still, when we got on the boat, we were both at least a spot shaken. It wasn't until we were able to slink away from the buoyant red vessel, and see his family's smiling faces, ignorant of what had, and could have, happened with regards to our friend, the bouncer, that either of us could breathe an honest sigh of relief.
He leaves for vacation in about ten minutes. It's highly difficult to describe what I'll feel in his absence. A dull, constant throbbing inside me. A feeling of longing stronger than the inane human need to eat and drink. Feelings so strong, text can't begin to go about explaining them. Vacations are pretty cool. They serve as mental and physical getaways from the outside world and the basic civilization that's often so trying that only your morning coffee will save you from going batshit fucking insane. Never before have I wanted to be someone's morning coffee this badly.
