Boy In My Boat

by Liz Ardwall

O================O

WARNING: This story contains scenes of explicit sexual activity
between an adult and a teenager. The author does not encourage
nor condone the reading of this story by anyone forbidden by law
to do so. By continuing to read, you accept sole responsibility
for your action.

If you consider an interracial or intergeneration story to be
offensive, please leave now. The author doesn't want to hear
about it.

Please note the following story content codes:

hetero, interracial, reluc, cuckold Fm young teen

SUMMARY: A woman fishing catches a naked boy.

DISCLAIMER: This story is entirely a work of fiction. No
resemblance to actual persons or places is intended. Descriptions
of unprotected sexual acts are not meant to encourage the reader
to engage in unsafe behavior.

O================O

I awoke to the gentle rocking of our rented cabin cruiser, as it
rested where we had moored in a sheltered cove of a small
Caribbean island. Prying myself loose from the arms of my
sleeping husband, I climbed out of the double berth.

Through the open door of the cabin, I could see the light of
early morning. I figured Jack wouldn't be up for another hour or
so. I tied on my bikini swimsuit and glanced in the mirror. After
a perfunctory brushing of my medium-length chestnut hair, I
concluded that my thirty-year-old body was presentable, and went
up the steps to the deck.

The sun hadn't yet appeared over the low hills behind the east
side of the little bay. It was about as cool as it would get,
before the tropical sun began to bake. I decided to try my luck
at catching a fish for our breakfast.

I picked up a rod and reel and some bait, and climbed down the
access ladder into our little dinghy, and cast off the line. My
muscles felt the strain as I rowed about fifty feet toward shore;
I decided I needed to be getting more exercise. But not in the
boat; one spot was as good as another for fish, so I threw down
the anchor from the bow and sat on the rear seat to try my luck.

I baited my hook and cast it out into the water; after a while, I
trolled it back to me and cast it again. Then I was just
relaxing, trailing my fishing line in the water, thinking of
nothing in particular as the little rowboat rocked gently at
anchor.

The bow dipped; I saw a dark pair of hands grasp the edge of my
craft. A pair of youthful arms raised above the railing a
dripping, brown torso topped by a smiling face; it was a boy,
maybe fifteen years old. A bare, brown leg was flung into the
boat, and the boarder climbed into the dinghy and stepped forward
to sit on the other bench seat facing me.

I was taken aback by his nonchalant nakedness. His limber, black
prick hung down between his legs from a small patch of wiry,
black curls; water dripped from the soft, wrinkled skin at its
tip onto the floor boards. The boy's body was slim and youthful;
his smooth, cocoa skin gleamed in the early morning sunlight.
Droplets from the sea glistened in the tight, black curls of his
hair.

I considered that he was likely a nearby resident of this
tropical Eden, out for a morning swim in what must usually be a
deserted little bay. He'd probably jumped out of bed and run to
the beach; why should he need clothes?

I managed a smile. "Hello," I said.

"Good morning, Mum," he said with a cheerful grin. "It's a good
time for fishing now. I think you will catch something nice
today."

I glanced over toward my sleeping mate's boat; no sign of life
there. I couldn't think of any reason not to keep making
conversation.

"No luck yet," I said.

"That's because you are in the wrong spot," he said. "The fish
don't eat here. Over there," he gestured toward the opposite
shore of the bay, "the little fish feed in the grassy bottom, and
the big ones go there to eat them."

As if on cue, I saw a splash on the surface where he had
indicated. The boy smiled and gave me an I-told-you-so nod.

"I'll take you over there, Mum," he said. He turned to the bow
and pulled up the anchor. Then he began to row the dinghy out
into the bay toward the fishing spot. I saw his young muscles
rippling as he pulled at the oars; it was much more pleasant to
watch him than to do it myself.

When he stopped rowing and dropped the anchor from the bow, I
turned and saw we had moved about two hundred yards away from the
cabin cruiser. Not too far for me to swim, I fleetingly thought.
But why should I need to?

The naked boy moved nimbly along the boat to sit beside me. "We
are close to the fish now," he said. "Let me show you where to
throw your hook."

He pointed to a spot on the surface of the water that looked no
different to me than any other. I accepted his judgment, and drew
back my arm and cast the sinker-weighted line toward the
indicated area.

"That's good, Mum," he said. "Now let's troll the line back in,
and throw it again."

He rested his left forearm across the material of my bikini top
to steady the rod, while the hand of his other arm around my back
helped me crank the reel. When the sinker had been drawn in to
the tip of the pole, he moved his hands behind me.

"I think you will cast better if you take this off, Mum," he
said, as his fingers untied my bikini top.

He dropped it to the bottom of the dinghy and wrapped his arms
around my naked torso; his forearm slid over my nipples as his
hand moved to grasp the rod. Together, we drew the pole back and
hurled the metal sinker toward the fishing spot. When it splashed
into the water, I saw a foot-long fish break the surface nearby.

"See, Mum," he said triumphantly. "Now the fish will nibble at
the bait."

Putting deed to word, he moved his mouth to kiss my nipple; his
tongue tickled it as he sucked. My eyes darted around to the
cabin cruiser; the deck was bare of life. The boy's mouth slid
across my creamy breasts and teased my other nipple;
involuntarily, I moaned in pleasure.

I felt his fingers fumbling with the ties of my bikini bottom.
What was this boy going to do to me? He peeled away the scrap in
front and let it fall over the edge of the bench.

I saw his dark chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. I
couldn't figure him out. Was he an experienced seducer, or was he
just winging this as he went along, exploring new territory? His
brown finger tentatively traced the pale, creased line in my
pubic bush; it opened to reveal the pink lips of my cunt.

The boy dropped to his knees between my legs; I felt his hard
dick bump my leg. His face moved to my pussy, and he sniffed it
tentatively. Then his tongue flicked out and tasted my juices. He
grasped my hips and slurped his probing tongue along my slit;
when he lapped against my clit, I trembled and nearly dropped the
fishing pole. He bathed my cunt again, making me groan with
pleasure.

After a few more licks, he turned his wet face up to mine and
smiled and said, "I think we should go to the beach now, Mum."

I nodded dumbly in the affirmative. The boy lithely moved to the
middle bench and pulled in the anchor. Then he picked up the oars
and began to row. I watched his hard, black cock bobbing in front
of his flat belly. The muscles of his slim shoulders and arms
flexed as he stroked the oars through the sparkling water of the
bay. His eyes were on mine and he wore a wide smile. I barely
remembered to reel in the fishing line, and lay the pole into the
bottom of the boat.

He expertly timed the surge of a little wave and washed the bow
of the boat up onto the shore. He shipped the oars and nimbly
scrambled over the side into the surf; I took his offered hand
and stepped off into the ankle-deep froth. It must have been low
tide; the sandy beach appeared dry, but was packed as if it had
been wet earlier. The boy guided me to lay upon it; my back
pressed into the yielding surface as if it was a firm mattress.

He crouched and spread my knees with his elbows and lay on his
belly between my legs; the gentle waves washed his lower body. He
looked at me and grinned, and stuck out his pink tongue and
slurped it along my pussy slit. I groaned in ecstasy. As I
squirmed in bliss while he nibbled my clit and licked my cunt, I
marveled that this primitive island boy seemed to know every bit
as much about lovemaking as my very civilized husband.

I placed my hands on his shoulders and urged him toward me. "Come
up here, boy," I said. "It's time for you to be a man."

He scrambled forward and rested on his elbows; his smile was both
innocent and erotic. I guided his prick to my pussy and stirred
the head in my opening. His hard, black shaft entered me in one
long plunge; it wasn't a man's cock, but it was big enough. I
groaned, and he grinned at me and moved his thumbs to strum my
nipples, while his hips began to pump. I clenched my vagina
around his thrusting dick, and heard an answering moan.

"Debra!" My husband's voice shattered the calm serenity of the
lapping waves and twittering birds of the background noise.

I looked toward our boat; he stood at the railing, clad in
swimming trunks; I noticed his hair was disheveled.

"Are you all right, darling?" he called.

I couldn't find an appropriate answer. I clutched the boy tightly
and rubbed his smooth back in encouragement.

"Do you need help?" Jack called. "Hang on. I'll be right there."

I hung on to the boy, urging him to more vigorous action. My
husband dove off the boat into the water and began to swim toward
the beach, while my young, black lover drove his cock
relentlessly into my pussy. The danger of our licentious coupling
was intoxicating. Like a tropical storm approaching from the
horizon, I felt my passion surging in my belly.

"Yes, boy," I murmured. "Give it to me."

His brown eyes locked with mine as he thrust determinedly into my
cunt, plunging deep and hard.

"I'm coming, love," I heard my husband shout.

"Yes, dear," I called. "So am I."

My groin exploded in fire; I thrashed beneath the boy as he
thrust into me again. "Ahhhh!" I cried aloud in bliss. "Ohhhh!" I
moaned in delirium as I felt the boy's hot shaft throb and pulse
and squirt his dark seed into my womb.

We writhed together in our ecstasy; then we began to regain our
senses. I could see that my husband was almost to the beach.

"You'd better go now," I said to the boy.

"Yes, Mum," he said. He kissed me quickly, and scrambled to his
knees. "Thank you, Mum."

Then he was up and running toward the brush along the beach. Just
as my husband emerged from the water, the naked boy vanished into
the bushes.

"My God, Debra," Jack said; his face was a picture of confusion.
"Did he rape you?"

"Yes, Dear," I said. "He raped me lovely. Now come down here and
wash his sperm out of my pussy."

I held up my arms in invitation. Jack's jaw dropped. Followed by
his swimming trunks. Jack wasn't a guy who needed to be asked
twice.

O================O

The end.

Read more of the author's stories at
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