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From: "Jim Dogget" <jim_dogget@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Dumped At Sea {Jim Dogget} (MMF nc?)
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Date: Tue, 21 Feb 2006 16:10:02 -0500
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Dumped At Sea {Jim Dogget} (MMF nc?)

Disclaimer: This is a work which contains explicit sex.  If it is illegal 
for you to be reading this, then don't read it.  It may be posted to any 
free site, but an acknowledgment sent to the author by email is appreciated. 
It may not be posted to any pay site.  This work is copyrighted by 
jim_dogget@hotmail.com.  The story should never be separated from this 
message.


DUMPED AT SEA

Eric and I go way back.  Not quite as far back as high school, but nearly. 
We have been friends for many years. We've lost track of each other a couple 
of times, then run into each other again and have always been able to pick 
up where we left off.  It wasn't one of those friendships that required 
constant companionship to keep it alive.  In fact it seemed to thrive on 
distance and separation, probably for good reason!

We are very different personalities, and we certainly have pursued different 
courses in our lives, so it wasn't a closeness that was held together by 
Saturday night binges, football games or any of the other things that are 
supposed to cement male friendships.  It was just that when we did get 
together the distances and the differences seemed to melt away.  It was as 
if we hadn't seen each other since the night before, not the decade before.

We hadn't tried to share our lives and we lived too far from each other to 
live in each other's pockets. But if one of us needed a dependable partner 
for any enterprise, we both knew that a phone call was all it would take to 
bring assistance.

So I called him up.

"Eric?"

"Good God, Lew!  Is that you?  Where've you been?"

I laughed.  "I haven't been anywhere!  I never go anywhere."

"Well," he said. "That's not true.  Last time we talked you'd just come back 
from Greece."

"Italy"

"Right.  Well I wasn't far off."

He'd always been a bit vague about geography.  The trouble was it wasn't 
just that he was hazy about where places were.  He was even worse when it 
came to following directions, and finding places.

"You remember I once helped you drive your stuff across the country?"

"Sure," he said.  "That was quite a trip!"

One of the things I remembered clearly about the journey was that on more 
than one occasion Eric's willful misreading of the map took us miles out of 
our way.

"You remember the girl?"

I did indeed.  We had had finally found our way back to the highway after 
being lost half the night, and picked up a hitchhiker on the on-ramp back 
onto the interstate, just as the sun was coming up.

By the time the sun went down again Eric had fucked her twice, made her give 
me a blowjob while I drove the truck, and abandoned her at a truck stop.

He may not have been good at directions, but he was unerring when it came to 
finding pussy, willing or not.  He had the single-mindedness of a homing 
pigeon.

That wasn't the only time I shared a woman with him.

Eric married Marie a couple of years after he left college.  She wasn't at 
all like the women I have come to associate with him; good time girls 
mostly, some of them very good looking and most of them big women - 
rubenesque, I suppose would be the polite way to put it.  Marie was a thin 
reed-like woman with a sharp tongue, a graduate student in philosophy with 
more brains in her pinkie than Eric could muster in his whole body, even if 
you added the brain in his cock to the rather smaller one in his head.

The three of us were hiking and camping in the Smokies. Late one afternoon I 
fell while crossing a mountain stream and soaked my clothes and my sleeping 
bag.  That night I shared their sleeping bag with them.  I remember Marie's 
cold skinny backside getting progressively warmer until she shifted to 
accommodate my growing erection.  I fucked her without ceremony while she 
spooned with her husband, and then we all turned over and he fucked her too 
while she held on to me. It was never repeated and nobody ever mentioned it. 
  She eventually left him; got fed up with his philandering and the fact 
that he wasn't terribly satisfying intellectually, I expect.  But he was 
good natured enough and he let her go without demur.  Eric subsequently 
ended up with a succession of women who were his intellectual equals, which 
isn't saying much.

The thing about Eric is that he is a great man friend; easy going, always 
ready to help you out of a jam or to get some job done.  It's worth a lot to 
have a friend like that, one who will put himself out for you and help you 
see something through. He is good company too.  Not a great 
conversationalist, but amiable, and - well, just easy to be with.

The only thing that seems to get him off balance is lust - he gets a bit 
crazy where women are involved.  I suppose he isn't really very different 
from the rest of us, just a more extreme case.  When Eric meets a woman, 
almost any woman, his judgment goes to pieces.  It doesn't matter if she's 
good looking or bad looking, clever or stupid; just as long as she's his 
body type, Eric has to have her.  She can be nice to him or she can be nasty 
to him; it doesn't make any difference. If there is the remotest possibility 
that he can get his prick into her he lavishes her with attention and 
seduces her the old fashioned way with flowers, and dinners and declarations 
of love.

Most of the time it works, and mostly it doesn't take very long.  He is 
Prince Charming on steroids; attentive and devoted.  Women love him.  He 
once showed me a picture album of women he had dated.  It was his catalog of 
conquests.  A third of the women were gorgeous, and the rest ranged from 
pleasant to unbelievably ugly. But they were all smiling lovingly at him as 
he took the picture.  Most of them were either half naked or completely 
naked and had that satisfied, sleepy mussed up look that well fucked women 
seem to acquire.

"Who's that one then?" I asked him, pointing to a picture of a big brunette, 
lounging naked on a chaise longue, with her hand covering her pussy.

"I don't remember her name.  But I had a hell of a job getting rid of her.  
She wanted to get married."

And that was the problem.  They all fell for him, but once he had fucked 
them vigorously for a few weeks he lost interest.  The big problem in Eric's 
life was getting rid of lovelorn women. He didn't seem capable of just 
telling them it was over.

He couldn't say, "Hey, honey.  That's it!  Take your shit and get out.  It's 
all over."

His way of getting rid of them was to behave worse and worse towards them in 
the hope that they would get the message, and end the relationship 
themselves. Some of them did, some of them didn't.    He tried standing them 
up for dates, making sure they would see him with other women, taking money 
out of their purses, insisting on doing things they didn't like, like coming 
in their mouths or fucking them in the ass. Of course, sometimes these 
strategies backfired - especially the last one.  Most of the time they 
decided they liked it after all.

But the fact remained that Eric's big problem was not so much finding women 
to fuck, but getting rid of them afterwards.

"I need you to help me move the boat. I need someone who won't shit their 
pants if the weather blows up."

The boat had been stored at a boatyard on the other side of Lake Michigan 
over the winter.

"So, are you going to help me or not," I asked, knowing very well that he 
wouldn't refuse.  But I should have been ready for the next thing he said.

"Sure, of course.  But there's this girl I've been going with......"

"And?"

"And, well, I don't know what to do."

"Bring her along.  She'll enjoy it."  It would be nice to have a woman on 
the boat, despite the sailor's adage that a woman on a vessel always brought 
bad luck.  I like women and a woman in a bikini improves the look of a boat 
no end.  And anyway, she could cook for us.

"The truth is I've been trying to dump her.  I've tried to tell her it's not 
working out for us but she won't listen.  So I was going to try again this 
weekend."

"Why d'you want to ditch her?"

"I met this other woman on-line, and I'm supposed to go see her next 
weekend.  But I've got to get rid of Debbie first.  She thinks we're going 
to the Indy 500 together."  Eric had never missed the 500 mile race in as 
many years as I can remember.

"You mean you're not going to the race? Or are you taking this new woman 
instead of Debbie?"

"Neither," said Eric miserably. "I'm going to Stowe for Memorial Day 
weekend. She lives in Vermont."

"Holy shit, Eric.  You're missing the race for a woman? You're nuts!" I 
didn't think he was going to argue that point, and indeed he didn't. But now 
you see what I mean about his lack of judgment when faced with the 
possibility of a new fuck toy.

"Why don't you just bring Debbie along on the boat and then you'll have 
plenty of time to explain to her that you don't want to see her anymore. And 
I'll commiserate. Hey, maybe she'll fancy me."

"I don't think so."  That may have been true, but he needn't have said so.

"Well, she can cook for us then."

Eric was silent for a moment.  "Well, I'll bring her then, but she's not a 
very good cook.  And you'll have to help me out with........ well, you know."

I knew what he meant, but he would have to liberate himself from Debbie's 
affections on his own.  I wasn't going to do it.

And that is how I found myself sliding my sailboat alongside a marina dock 
one evening to pick up my crew of two, each of whose expectations of the 
weekend trip now seemed to differ markedly from the other's.

They were already standing on the dock, waiting for me.  I put the engine in 
reverse to stop the boat, threw a line to Eric and passed another to Debbie. 
  Eric cleated his line off while Debbie stood among her suitcases holding 
her end of the rope uncertainly as the stern of the boat drifted away from 
the dock.

"Just pull me in and tie it to that thing on the dock, there."  I pointed to 
the cleat at her feet.

Debbie was a caricature of the sort of woman Eric fancied.  I could have 
picked her as Eric's girlfriend out of a crowd of fifty women.  She was 
tall, blonde, bosomy, and large; not fat, just a really big girl, with 
slightly coarse features, and a cute off center gap in her teeth. She would 
have been completely blonde if she had been a bit more diligent, but she had 
half an inch of brown roots underpinning her puffed up hair style, and 
somehow her blondeness didn't really suit the rest of her Mediterranean 
coloring.

She pulled on the rope, teetering precariously on her high wedge sandals, 
while with her other hand trying to stop her wide brimmed hat from blowing 
away.  I could tell she wasn't a sailor! If she'd ever even been on the 
Staten Island ferry she would have more of a clue about what was appropriate 
boating gear.

But who the hell cares?  She was big and blowzy, and the fact that she was 
unsteady on her heels just made her seem more sexy and vulnerable.  Women do 
know what they are doing when they dress like that, don't they?  I was 
beginning to look forward to having Debbie on the boat more than I was Eric, 
who was standing by his mooring line looking surly and pissed off.

"Ooh, is this your boat?  Eric said it was just a small one."

"No, this is it.  Tie that line off and I'll help you aboard."

She left her bags on the dock for Eric to worry about and I helped her climb 
over the safety lines as best I could. I ought to have been more helpful, I 
suppose, and undone the clips on the safety lines to make an opening that 
she could step through.  She was wearing a sundress and she got hung up as 
she spanned the wires, the fabric rucked up and quite an expanse of thigh 
showing.  She squeaked as the line bisected her somewhere under the skirt, 
and I caught hold of her to help her onto the deck.  She was a nice mixture 
of firm and soft.

In the cabin Eric and I watched her ample rear as she unpacked clothes in 
the fore-berth.

"I'm glad you came, buddy." I said, passing him a beer from the icebox.  
"This is going to be fun."

He swigged the beer, grimaced, and shrugged.

"Don't like the beer? Sorry, I know it's not Coors."

I can't understand anybody who drinks Coors; it would taste like horse piss 
if it had much of a taste at all.  Give me MGD anytime.

"It's not the beer," he said, nodding at Debbie.  "I mean, she's a great 
girl, Lew, but shit, I need to move on. Can't you like distract her or 
something?"

"Just be the asshole you always are.  It'll sort itself out."

It was late in the afternoon when we got away from the dock. With an 
inexperienced crew aboard I decided we would anchor for the night in a 
sheltered spot behind the dunes, near the entrance to the channel leading to 
the open water.  I had always liked that spot.  It had good holding for the 
anchor and was sheltered from the northwesterly winds.

Eric went to the bow of the boat to try his luck at fishing. I made gin and 
tonics for us all and chatted with Debbie while I fixed a meal.  I was 
surprised at what good company she was, and discovered that she wasn't as 
dumb as she looked.  More truthfully, she wasn't as dumb as she behaved when 
she was around Eric.  It was as if she had put a rev limiter on her IQ and 
was deliberately matching herself to the stereotype of Eric's stable of girl 
friends. Maybe she thought he would be threatened by her if she acted 
intelligent. I suppose you do that if being with someone stupid is important 
enough.  I presumed she had no clue that her affair with Eric was on the 
rocks and I wasn't going to even hint at it. Eric could do his own dirty 
work.  Instead we chatted casually about Chicago, and how she liked living 
there.

The bottle of wine the three of us shared while we ate made for a convivial 
evening.  After the plates were cleared away Eric found a pack of playing 
cards and we played cards for a while. I was tired, and I'm not crazy about 
card games, but I lasted a few rounds before turning in.  Eric had always 
liked playing cards, even if he wasn't very good at it.  I was sure Debbie 
was letting Eric win, and even had the feeling that she was letting me in on 
one of the secrets of her relationship, which was to indulge Eric at every 
opportunity.

I turned in.  I'd given up the V-berth to them and so I made my bed in the 
quarter berth tucked into the corner of the hull behind the chart table.  I 
like to sleep there when the boat is under way.  It has good access to the 
companionway in an emergency, and I can see the compass on the bulkhead 
without moving.

Even a boat the size of mine is a very small space, and privacy is only an 
illusion fostered by the willing pretense of the crew.  Small sounds can be 
very public on a boat, and so it was no surprise to hear the splashing of 
pee in the head, the sounds of teeth being brushed, and to feel the movement 
of my companions as they headed to the intimacies of their bunk.  And it 
wasn't much of a surprise to hear the noises they made either.  I wasn't 
shocked by the escalating sounds of passion - I'd heard that a few times on 
this boat, too, but I was taken aback to hear Debbie say,

"No, no, Eric, don't."

"Not like that.  Please.  No, no don't."

"............Ouch!  Slowly, please, aaaargh!  That hurts."

"Oh, shit! Please!"

And then groans and rhythmic creakings as the boat worked beneath them.  
Finally it was over and shortly afterwards someone went back to the head 
again.  I know it was Debbie. I am almost certain I heard her sob as she 
passed by, and the sounds from the bathroom suggested that she was in some 
discomfort.  And I was sure she stopped by my bunk for a long moment on her 
way back to the V-berth. I reached out my hand but by then she had gone.

It was a gorgeous morning, quite cool for the time of year, but the 
surrounding shore had a warm early morning glow to it.  My crew responded to 
the cup of coffee taken to them in their bunk by groaning.  I gave them a 
while to get moving and I'd like to say that they emerged from the cabin 
ready to take up their duties, but that would be stretching the truth. 
Debbie climbed up into the cockpit on her wedge sandals, wearing a 
house-coat of the sort worn by Lucille Ball and other domestic goddesses of 
the 1950's, obviously not ready for work.  She and Eric sat in the cockpit 
steaming their eyes open by blowing in their coffee mugs, while I took the 
sail covers off and shackled the halyard onto the mainsail.

I love early mornings on the boat when the weather is like that; the 
prospect of a voyage in fine weather, the combination of cool air and warm 
sun on my skin, and the company of congenial companions makes me feel like a 
lucky man.  I just wished my crew were showing enough life to even be 
considered present, never mind congenial.

"Time for a dip, then, and then we'll get going!" I decreed hopefully.

I unfolded the swim ladder and dove in, savoring the tingling shock of the 
freshwater.

I looked up.

"C'mon, Eric! C'mon, Debbie!"

Eric actually heeded the call and started climbing down the ladder, and 
Debbie at least got to her feet to come and watch, standing at the top of 
the ladder, her collapsed haystack of a hair-do glowing in the sun, sipping 
her coffee.

I ducked my head under the water and surfaced in time to hear a yelp and to 
see Debbie tumbling into the water, the coffee cup left suspended in mid-air 
with a frond of coffee fanning from it.  She surfaced with the housecoat 
ballooning around her, while her body was a pale shape under the glittering 
surface of the water.  She spluttered water and tears.

"Eric!  Why, Eric?  Why did you do that?"

Eric was swimming away from her on his back and laughing.

"Oh, shit!"  I thought.  "I never asked her."

"Can you swim?"

I swam towards her while the air escaped from her housedress, which, by the 
time I reached her, was wrapped round her like a flag.

"Stupid bastard!  Yes, of course I can."

I reached for her hand. She was treading water while trying to pull the 
dress from around her legs, but it clung to her like a snake.

"But I can't swim in this thing."

She put her arm round my neck and started to undo the buttons one handed 
while I tried to keep us both afloat.  She eventually got one button undone, 
but it took so long that I'd nearly drowned us both by the time she'd done 
it.  I was supposed to be rescuing her, but I'm not a very good swimmer and 
I was using her for buoyancy.

"Here!  Just rip the buttons.  I'll never get them undone."

I hesitated. She put my hand on the fabric.  I let go of her and just ripped 
the front of the housecoat apart with both hands. Bodice ripping turned out 
to be very satisfying, seeing loose buttons glinting as they fell through 
the water and buoyant breasts suddenly freed. She hung on to me while she 
wriggled her arms out of the coat, her body warm where it touched me. I 
didn't want to let her go, but she kissed me on the cheek and swam away.

I watched her climb up the swim ladder on to the boat, and admired the sheen 
of water that slipped from her skin as she emerged from the lake.  Oh, she 
was gorgeous, all right. And a sailor could wile away many an hour in his 
hammock thinking about the pleasure in those broad hips.  I turned over and 
floated on my back, hoping that concentrating on the beauty of an early 
spring sky would prevent me from getting an embarrassing erection.

It was a waste of time, because I was soon distracted from my contemplation 
of the clouds by what was happening back at the boat.

Eric had swum back to the boat, but Debbie had pulled the swim ladder out of 
his reach and was standing, naked and angry, yelling at him.

"Eric, you are a complete asshole.  I've fucking had it with you!"

Oh, God! She was even better from the front!

"Why are you such a prick? You think you can just do want you want to me, 
and I'm never going to say anything.  Well, fuck you!"

Eric said something.  I don't know what it was.  I was too far away to hear 
and anyway I was much more interested in the way Debbie was delivering her 
lines.

"Well, never again, buddy!"

"No, you don't, you never have."

"Well, I'm never ever going to let you do THAT again!"

Eric trod water and pleaded his case, and after a while Debbie smiled at 
him. I couldn't believe it.  Why was he sweet talking her?  He was supposed 
to be getting rid of her, and if making someone hate you is the way to do it 
then I thought he'd been making good progress.

"Oh, you would, would you?" she said. "And suppose I don't let you."

Eric said something and she laughed, reflexively covering herself with one 
hand and brushing the sodden hair from her face with the other.  She leant 
over the transom, said something to him and let the ladder down. Eric's 
prick was tenting his shorts as he climbed the ladder.  I followed him onto 
the boat and as Debbie went below with him she turned in the companionway, 
and saw that I was flatteringly imitating Eric.

"God!" she exclaimed. "The both of you!"

I shrugged helplessly, and turned to pull up the ladder.

We motored down the channel, past the old Coastguard cutter tied up along 
the wall, and exchanged greetings with the morning joggers on the shore.  
After clearing the channel entrance with its little lighthouse we put the 
sails up and were soon bounding along in a fresh breeze.  The wind was on 
our beam, and thanks to a stationary high pressure over the Great Lakes it 
was likely to be that way all day. I knew we could look forward to a relaxed 
day's sailing without sail changes, lounging in the cockpit and soaking up 
the spring sunshine.

I will admit to wondering how relaxed it was going to be, though.  Eric had 
been moody ever since I picked him up at the dock.  Debbie had been doing 
her best to be good company, but this morning's dunking must surely have 
tested her good nature.  She'd certainly given him an earful, and if it had 
been me, that's when I would have told Debbie I'd had enough of her yelling 
abuse at me and she could go find some other sucker.  He'd engineered the 
situation, so why didn't he follow through and make it an excuse to ditch 
her.  But instead he'd followed her below deck with a hard-on while I got 
the boat ready for us to leave. So now, instead of getting it over with, 
and, I had hoped, giving me the opportunity to offer a little sympathy; now 
we were going to have to suffer more passive aggressive behavior from Eric 
while he tried to tell his girl-friend it was all over.  Or more likely, it 
being Eric, trying to needle her to the point that she would tell him she'd 
had enough of him, instead.

Debbie, though, seemed blessed with an equanimity that made Eric seem 
particularly graceless.  He didn't talk to her, didn't really even look at 
her, but she chatted amiably with me while the three of us sat in the 
cockpit. She asked questions about how the sails were set, and how to steer 
the boat.  I was happy to teach her, standing close behind her at the wheel, 
enjoying the pleasure she took in guiding the boat through the water. It 
takes most people some time to get the hang of it, but Debbie stood 
confidently at the wheel in a sarong and bikini top looking like a large and 
underdressed version of Ellen MacArthur.

By late morning we had covered close to 20 miles.  There was open water 
ahead of us and the shoreline had disappeared astern. There was a cool bite 
to the wind when we left the harbor, but by now it had warmed nicely.  
Debbie took a towel and went to sun herself on the fore-deck, while Eric 
practiced shuffling his deck of cards in the cockpit.

I asked Eric if he wanted a drink. He looked up from his cards.

"Sure," he said.  "I'll drink your pissy beer."

I would have laughed, but it didn't sound as if he was joking.

"Well, take the boat, then."

He took the wheel and I went below to get a beer out of the icebox. Debbie 
was lying on the deck sunning her back next to the forward hatch, so I stuck 
my head through it to ask her what she wanted.  She'd undone her bikini top 
and I had some trouble concentrating on her answer.

"What?"

"What do you have?"

Every boat has its special boat drink.  I have friends who take great pride 
in their margaritas, but on my boat gin and tonic is the signature drink.  I 
love the refreshing lemony crispness of a G&T on a hot day.

"How about a gin and tonic?"

"It's a bit early for me.  I don't want to get squiffy."

I laughed. "Oh, I don't mind!  You can get as squiffy as you like.  In fact 
I'll have one too."

"I'll come back and have it in the cockpit," she said, sitting up just as I 
ducked my head back into the cabin.  So I put my head back up again.

"Ice?"

Damn! Too late! She was already fastening the strap. She laughed.

"Of course!"

We sat and drank in the cockpit.  Eric surrendered the wheel as quickly as 
he could, and went back to shuffling cards between swigs of beer.  I know 
I've said that Eric was a friend that you can rely on but I was beginning to 
wish he would be  a bit more help running the boat.

Debbie must have been thirsty because it didn't take her long to finish her 
gin, even though I'd made it a long one.

"Another?"

I went below while she took the wheel.

When I got back they had decided to play cards, and as I said, I'm not much 
of a card player, so I sailed the boat while they played. When it was 
Debbie's turn to deal she shuffled the pack with precision.  It's a long 
time since I saw someone handle cards like that.  Her hands moved with a 
deftness and rapidity that would have done credit to a Monte Carlo croupier. 
  She split the pack with a snap, interleaved the piles of cards with a 
brisk zapping noise and dealt them neatly across the cockpit table.  If it'd 
been me doing it there would have been cards on the floor and some would 
have blown away to float on the waves.

And then she proceeded to demolish Eric at cards.  She seemed to have a 
natural affinity for the little pasteboard squares.  She never seemed to 
forget what had been played, and to have an innate understanding of the 
probabilities of particular cards appearing, and of sequences of cards.

"Let's play for something," said Debbie.

"Like what?"

"Well, I don't know.  Like, forfeits or something."

I had quite enjoyed watching them play, but it was beginning to rankle that 
I seemed to be stuck sailing the boat the whole time.

"I know - loser steers the boat for an hour, so I can take a break."

"OK," said Debbie. "Eric?"

"Sure."

"Don't be so grumpy."

"I'm not."

"It's because you know you're going to lose, isn't it?"

Eric grunted. They played and of course Eric lost again.

"OK, Eric my friend, she's all yours. Steady as you go. I'll go make some 
sandwiches. Another beer? Debbie?"

"I'm OK. Just a little more tonic."

I'm a good host, so I put a little more gin in as well, and passed the 
drinks up to them. Debbie smiled a little lopsidedly at me when she took the 
drinks but she seemed to have her sea legs and managed to get both drinks 
back to the helm without spilling anything. I smiled and started to make the 
sandwiches.

When I climbed the companionway steps to set the mustard and some celery and 
carrot sticks in the cockpit, Eric was standing at the wheel looking like a 
professional skipper, gripping the wheel and focusing his eyes on the 
distant horizon.  The only thing that spoilt the illusion of dedicated 
professionalism was that Debbie was standing behind him with a hand down the 
front of his shorts and was working his cock up and down. Eric might have 
been steering the boat, but it was Debbie who had her hand on the tiller.

I suppose I could have stayed and watched.  Eric didn't seem to notice me 
and Debbie's face was buried in his shoulder.  But I went back to finish 
making the food, and took my time since they seemed to be enjoying 
themselves and I didn't want to be a party pooper.

Suddenly the boat lurched to port sending the plates and food cascading 
across the cabin.  There was a crash as the boom swung across the boat and 
the rigging shook to the flapping of the sails and the screeching of blocks 
as ropes ran through them.  The boat stopped, dead in the water, wallowing 
in the waves.

"Holy shit!  What the fuck was that?"

I ran up the steps into the cockpit. The boom was swinging backwards and 
forwards just above my head. There was no-one at the wheel.  Debbie was bent 
over the stern, her sarong hoisted above her haunches, while Eric fucked her 
from behind, having let go of the wheel to hang on to Debbie's hips instead. 
  He took no notice of me, just rhythmically pounded his cock into his soon 
to be ex-girlfriend.

I charged for the wheel, afraid something on my boat was going to break if I 
didn't get her straightened up, and barged Eric out of the way.

Eric swore as his cock was dislodged from inside Debbie, and while I 
wrestled with the wheel, he tried to reinsert himself. But what with me 
pushing Debbie out of the way, Debbie trying to stand up, Debbie shouting, 
"Eric, stop! Please Eric, stop!" and the wild rocking of the boat, he 
couldn't do it. Creamy sperm shot from Eric's cock, splattering Debbie's 
thigh and the helmsman's seat.

"Shit!"

Eric pushed past me, and by the time I had the boat back under control and 
we were sailing again he'd gone below leaving Debbie wiping herself with her 
sarong.

"I'm sorry, Lew."

Her face was red and there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

"It's OK.  You weren't the one who was supposed to be steering the boat."

"I know, but it's my fault.  Once I get him started - well, you know what 
he's like."

I laughed, despite myself.

"No really, I don't.  He's never done that to me."

"Oh, no! I didn't mean........." She blushed again. "What I meant was he just gets 
carried away.  I don't think he can stop himself."

"Don't you think all guys are like that?"

"Well, I suppose.  But he's............." She struggled for a word.

"Vigorous?"

"Insatiable." A pause.  "You know I think he really loves me."

What could I say? I didn't say anything.

"I don't want to hurt him.  He just seems so desperate sometimes."

Desperate?  Sure, he was horny, but - heck - I thought he was trying to get 
rid of her.  And she thinks he's desperate for her?  Just because he kept 
screwing her?  Someone really had their wires crossed.

It turned out it was me.

"Lew? - do you mind if I tell you something?  I don't hardly know you, but I 
do know you and Eric are really close.  I'm really very fond of him, but......."

"But what?"

"Lew, please don't think badly of me." Her voice dropped and she leant close 
to me. "I'm married."

"Married?"  I know it was not a sensible reply.  I heard exactly what she 
said, but I couldn't immediately figure out what this new piece of 
information meant, except that I was getting out of my depth.

"Does Eric know?"

"No.  That's the point."

"What do you mean -`that's the point'?"

"I met him in a bar. I wasn't even looking to pick someone up.  I was there 
with Jane - well, you don't know Jane.  We were just having a night out. And 
Eric was really nice.  I thought he was going after Jane."

"And?"

"Jane gave him my phone number, and he called me the next day and asked me 
out. I just thought we'd have a drink or something.  You know - just for the 
company. But he was very persistent."

I laughed.  "That's Eric, all right."

"And then we started - you know, the sex."

"And you think he's in love with you?"

"I don't know?  I don't know what to think?  He's suddenly so moody and I 
don't want to upset him.  Do you think he suspects something?"

"No, I don't think it's that!  It's just Eric.  Sometimes he's like that."

What was I supposed to do?  Tell her why Eric was acting weird? Tell her he 
was about to pull the plug on their affair?  A couple of minutes ago he'd 
been screwing her on the stern of my boat.  Hell, the seats were still 
slippery from the spillage and her sarong had fresh wet spots on it.  This 
wasn't the time for me to be explaining to her the realities of life.

"You see the problem is my husband's in Dubai."

"Oh! Then he's a long way away."

"No.  He's coming home....... on Tuesday."

"Tuesday?"  That was the day after tomorrow.

"Lew.  I need to end it.  I need to tell him it's over."

"Who?"

"Eric, of course. How am I going to do that?"

Now I was beginning to see the whole picture.  These two were having an 
adulterous affair, fucking each other all over my boat, and both desperate 
to end it.  But I was the only one of the three of us who knew what was 
going on.

I supposed I could tell Eric that his lover was married and her husband was 
coming home, and that once the boat docked the fucking was over and he was a 
free man.  That would make him happy, unless of course he was upset by the 
fact that she'd been stringing him along.  His ego might not like that.

Or I could tell her that Eric had a date in Vermont and was dumping her 
anyway, but the downside to that was that she might be upset at being the 
`dumpee' instead of the dumper.

Or I could say nothing, keep both of their confidences and see what 
happened. I didn't like that idea.  There's nothing worse than having 
miserable people on a boat. Misery is contagious, and these two had managed 
to make themselves, and each other, miserable without knowing how they had 
done it.  I'd have to spend the rest of the trip hoping against hope that 
one of them would do something to end the impasse.  It would be better to 
roll the dice.  It might not get any better, but we wouldn't be stuck in 
this limbo. I was going to tell her.

"Debbie - Lew was going to end it too."

"He told you that?  But he's been all over me - you saw him.  I mean, I wish 
you hadn't, but you saw."

"Yeah, I know.  I don't understand it either.  But he was looking for a way 
to break it to you.  He wanted to let you down gently."

"Well, fuck - he didn't let me down.  He pumped me up."

That was true - the sight of his bare buttocks driving his cock in and out 
of her was seared on my brain

"He's such a shit!  Why didn't he just tell me? I'm going to show the little 
bastard. "

"Show him what?"

"I don't know, but I'll think of something."

She disappeared below decks and yelled at him for the second time in the 
day.  This time she really reamed him out, and it was much worse than the 
one he got for dunking her in the water this morning.  I didn't hear all she 
said, but at some point I heard Eric shout, "What do you mean you are 
married?"

After that a verbal free-for-all ensued, which I couldn't follow.  It's 
surprising how much noise a sailboat makes pounding through the water at six 
knots.  The noise of the wind, of the hull punching through the waves, the 
creak and groan of the rigging, and the thrumming of the sail make normal 
conversation difficult unless you speak directly at someone.  They were 
doing that all right, but up on deck I could only hear snatches of words.  
The words I caught clearly were mostly curse words, and there were a lot of 
them, and they were delivered with vigor by both Debbie and Eric.

After a while things quietened down, and Eric reappeared in the cockpit, 
looking rather shaken.  He gave me a weak smile, and raised his thumb, which 
I presumed meant that he had successfully removed Debbie from his life. I 
suppose your interpretation of what happened depended on your viewpoint, but 
it seemed to me that it was more than likely that Debbie was the one that 
had cleaned house! Eric didn't actually say anything, just pulled out the 
cards and started compulsively shuffling them again.

Debbie's appearance was a little different.  She had armed herself with a 
fresh drink, and climbed the companionway, still in the soiled sarong and 
the bikini top that barely contained her. She looked flushed and angry, and 
would have looked determined if it wasn't for the barely detectable 
quivering of her lower lip. She dropped to the seat opposite Eric, took long 
draughts from her gin and tonic, and glared at him.  Eric continued to 
concentrate on his cards.

"Why are you always shuffling the damn cards?"

Eric shrugged and kept on doing it.

"You're no damn good at cards.  I don't know why you bother."

That remark finally got to Eric.

"OK - let's play, and we'll see."

"You're as useless at it as you are at everything else."

Ouch!

"Look! You want to play, let's play.  Otherwise shut-up!"

"Deal! Asshole!"

"What are we playing for?"

Eric snapped the cards. Debbie thought for a minute.
.
"Let's play for the same thing we played for before, but this time you take 
the wheel for the rest of the ..... what?"  She looked at me.

"The watch.  For a full watch.  Four hours."

"You take the wheel for the whole watch thing.  You just keep your fucking 
hands on the wheel, and then we won't have to mess with you. You never take 
your hands off it."

"What if I win?"

"Ha - I'll do the same! You can tie me to the wheel for all I care. But you 
won't win. You've never ever beaten me!"

Debbie didn't seem to have any doubt that she was going to beat him, and was 
clearly looking forward to it.  She suddenly didn't seem as angry, and she'd 
got some of her confidence back.  She took a triumphant swig of her drink.  
Demolishing Eric at cards was going to be fun for her. I hoped for her sake 
this wasn't an example of unjustifiable bravado fueled by Bombay Gin.  
Though on previous form Eric stood as much chance of surviving another game 
of cards as did a snowflake in hell.

"Now deal the fucking cards!"

"Do you mind not swearing so much," I said.  "I really don't like it."

In reality I don't mind swearing at all, but it was my boat and I like to 
appear to be in charge! I am the Captain, after all.

She looked me in the eye and said very emphatically, "Well, fuck you too!"

And then she gave me her winning gap-toothed smile.

"Deal the cards, Eric." That was better.

They played cards with ferocity.  I've never seen people play like that.  
They slapped cards down on the table, zapped through the deck to shuffle the 
cards, and dealt cards with such momentum that they spent a lot of time 
picking them up off the floor.  Both played with fierce concentration.  
After half an hour Debbie had the upper hand, and Eric went to get a couple 
of beers for us and refill Debbie's glass.

While he was gone, Debbie rearranged her breasts in her bikini top, and 
leant over and put her hand on my knee.

"He's so hopeless, Lew.  I don't know why he bothers."

She giggled and said "Four whole hours!"  I have to admit I felt a stirring 
in my pants, as I imagined what Debbie and I could do for four hours while 
Eric was manacled to the wheel.

The denouement was not what I expected.  As she gulped her way through 
another drink Debbie's card skills began to evaporate, along with her good 
humor. Despite my admonition about bad language on my boat she was cursing 
under her breath and playing worse and worse.

Eventually Eric said "OK, Debbie.  This is it.  You lose this hand and 
you're on watch for the next four hours!"

Debbie shook her head.

"This isn't fair.  You must be cheating!"

Eric laughed at her. "I'm not cheating.  You're playing like crap."

"No, I've had bad luck and I think you cheat.  I always play better than you 
do. I always win."

"Not this time!"

"I play much better than you do.  This isn't fair," she repeated.  There was 
defeat in her voice.

She brightened up, suddenly.

"I'll tell you what, let's just cut the cards and if I lose I'll stand the 
watch."

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Eric. "I'm about to win, and there's no 
way I'm going to lose unless you have the world's longest winning streak. If 
we cut the cards I've got an even chance of four hours stuck at the wheel.  
You're out of your mind."

"OK, then.  What if...... if I lose I'll do it all day."

"Nope," I said.  "That's ridiculous."

"OK, what then?"

Eric laughed. "You said we could tie you to the wheel."

"No I didn't.  You make stuff up."

She looked at me, frowning.

"I didn't say that, did I, Lew?"

"Yeah, you did.  I'm sorry, but you did."

"I did, didn't I?" she said in a small voice.  The bluster and confidence 
had gone. "I'm not sure I like this. What would I be tied with?"

"Oh, we'll use a sail tie," I started to say.

Eric interrupted me.  "With your bikini top!"

"No, Eric!  That's awful!  You wouldn't."

She looked at me for help.  I smile at her and shrugged.

"Well, it's fifty-fifty if we cut the cards, isn't it?"

She downed the rest of her drink.

"Eric always loses," she said, sounding confident, but her body language 
gave her away.

She leant forward and hugged her knees.  "Cut the cards, Eric sweetie."

Eric laughed and shuffled the pack.

"Cut," he said.

She cut the cards and he shuffled them again.

He held out the pack. She took a slab of cards and held it up so we could 
see the bottom one.

Queen of Hearts - how appropriate! Eric took a cut and, grinning, held up 
the King of Spades

"Best of three?" beseeched Debbie. Eric shook his head. "Oh, I hate you! I 
don't really have to do it, do I?"

Pause.

"OK, then.  But I'm only doing it to be a good sport.  You shouldn't have 
won, you know."

She tried to stand, but fell right back on the cushions.  She giggled.

"Shit - those gin and tonics were strong."  She turned on Eric. "You were 
trying to get me pissed, weren't you, so you'd win. I'll show you, you 
freak!  I can do anything I want to."

She pulled herself to her feet and maneuvered herself behind the wheel.

"Move your butt." She grabbed hold of the binnacle and swayed her hip into 
mine the same way I had shoved Eric out of the way only a short time 
earlier.

She put her hands on her hips. "Now show me how." She shouldn't have let go 
of the binnacle because she lost her balance and fell against me.  Her arms 
wrapped round my waist.  I looked down at her messed-up hair as she used me 
to regain her balance.

She giggled again - "Whoops! Oh, Lew, you'll have to help me."

I put my arms round her and helped her to the wheel, which she grabbed onto. 
  She was pretty unsteady, so I arranged her hands on it and got the boat 
pointed in the right direction.

"Two twenty-five; that's about south west."

"This pointer thing keeps swinging around."

"No - it's OK, just don't chase the compass."  It wasn't the compass that 
was at fault.  She had forgotten her earlier lesson on how to steer a 
course.  I stood behind her and turned the wheel while she leant back 
against me and let her hands move as the wheel turned.  It took a few 
minutes for her to get the hang of it again, and I enjoyed the feel of her 
against me.  I know she felt my growing hardness; she couldn't have missed 
it!  But she didn't say anything, just kept leaning back against me.

When I was sure she could hold a course I reluctantly moved to leave.

"Haven't you forgotten something?"

"No. Just hold it like that you'll be fine."

"Aren't you supposed to tie me or something?"

"Me?"

I looked at Eric.  He was watching with interest, a half smile on his face, 
still shuffling the damn cards.

"Eric's touched me for the last time.  You do it.  Nobody'll ever say I 
didn't pay up when I lost a bet."

"Nobody's going to say anything," I said. "I don't want anybody to know 
about this.  Ever!"

She giggled.  "I won't tell anybody.  Who am I going to tell?  My husband?"

"Probably not.  So whatever happens on this boat stays on this boat?"

"Don't push your luck.  I may be a bit buzzed, but I'm not going to be taken 
advantage of. Now, if you're going to unhook my top you'd better do it while 
I concentrate on steering this thing."

I stepped up and unhooked the bra.  I slid the shoulder loops down her 
forearms and pulled her wrists together, binding them with the bra-cups and 
straps.  She wasn't really tied to the wheel; just her wrists were tied 
together, so that her hands could still spin the wheel to steer.

Eric and I sat down with another beer and watched our defeated card player 
steer the boat.  She had spread her feet as far apart as the sarong would 
allow because her hands were so close together on the wheel that they did 
little to help her maintain her balance.  Her hair had collapsed into a 
messy pile and her mascara was smudged.  Debbie's sumptuous breasts, freed 
from the confines and the support of her bikini top, stood splendidly on her 
chest.

Any sense of loyalty that Eric had felt towards his ex-girlfriend had gone 
and he now started to discuss her, pointing out her features to me.

"Look at those tits, Lew," he said, as we sat together on the cushions. 
"Aren't they gorgeous?  They're one of the things that I really enjoyed 
about her.  It makes me hard just looking at them."

They were fine, and I agreed with him.

"She does this thing where she shakes them - jiggles them.  You should get 
her to do it for you."

"I don't think she'd do it for me, even if I asked," I laughed.

"Try it."

"OK.  Debbie!  Can you jiggle your tits for me."

"Fuck off!  But you can get me a drink, and I need some suntan stuff.  I'm 
going to get burned to hell."

I told her I'd get the drink.  Eric could put the suntan lotion on her.

"I don't like that bastard touching me."

"Then you're going to burn!" And I went down into the cabin.

When I brought the cocktail back to the cockpit Eric was already at work on 
her with the lotion.  It looked as if he had poured a jug of cream on her.  
He'd slathered on so much that the milky liquid was spread in swirls on her 
back and shoulders. Eric started massaging the lotion on to her stomach and 
then her breasts, which slithered under his hands.  Debbie didn't react to 
what he was doing, ignoring him but looking pissed, while concentrating on 
navigating the boat to Chicago. Eric kept massaging the salve into her skin 
but had given up any pretense of evenly distributing it and was now only 
rubbing it into her tits.

"Give me that drink." Debbie sounded annoyed.

"I can't give it to you - you're tied to the wheel," I laughed. "Someone'll 
have to hold it for you."

Eric by now had both his arms round her and was rubbing himself against her 
slippery body, her breasts appearing and disappearing as they slid in and 
out of his grasp.

"Give me a drink, then, and get this shit-head off me."

I put my arm around her to steady her while I held the drink to her lips.  
The suntan oil made her slick and warm.  She sipped from the glass.  Eric's 
hands slid down her stomach and into the top of her sarong, while mine slid 
onto her breast.

Right then I wanted her really badly.  Until now I had just been an observer 
of her emotional and physical tussles with Eric, but I didn't want to be an 
observer any more.  I wanted to be a participant.  I wanted to do the same 
things to her that Eric did.  I wanted to fuck this big, vulnerable, drunk 
and arousing woman like I've never wanted anything else.

"Oh, no!" she said.  "Don't do this."

But she never let go of the wheel or tried to move.

"No! No! You mustn't. No, Lew," she whispered.

I kissed her behind the ear and squeezed her nipple between my fingers.

"Just steer the boat, Debbie!" My voice was hoarse.

My cock was growing hard as I pushed myself against her flank and felt her 
warm body through my shorts.  Eric had one hand deep in her waistband and 
was tugging down his shorts with the other hand.  His cock sprung free, 
erect and red.

Debbie's tits were warm and satiny and her nipples were firm. I held the 
drink to her lips again. She swallowed some but most of it spilt on her 
tits.

"Ow - that's cold!  Lew, don't let Eric do this to me."

Eric was undoing her sarong, and she tried to move her hips away from him, 
although she didn't make any effort to stop me groping her boobs.

"Fuck it, Eric! Stop!" she shouted.

Eric took no notice and the material dropped to her feet, leaving her naked 
at the wheel, greasy with sunscreen from the waist up. He wiped some of the 
lotion off her back and worked it into the skin of his cock.

My hand slid over the curve of her belly into the dark thatch of hair. I 
probed in the wet crease between her legs and explored her with my fingers. 
She was wonderfully hot and moist and slick but she grunted and arched 
herself away from my hand. Eric sat down on the seat and pulled her 
backwards onto his cock. The last of the gin and tonic splashed out of the 
glass.

Debbie gripped the wheel and pulled herself up.

"Fuck you, Eric.  I won't do it with you."

He pulled her back into his lap.

"You liked it a couple of hours ago."

"Well, you were my boyfriend then."

"Yeah!" he said, "and you weren't married then, either."

They weren't moving, or obviously fucking.  She was just sitting there, 
impaled on his prick, arguing with him

"Well, I'm married now. Get your prick out of me."

"The hell I will.  What are you going to do? Tell him?"

"Get out of me!"

She tried to pull herself up but Eric held her round the waist, and started 
moving his hips on the seat.

"Eric! Dammit!"

But Eric wasn't going to stop, and started fucking her vigorously.  Debbie 
was using the wheel as something to hang on to while Eric ground his cock 
into her, but the boat was veering off course. When I swung the wheel to 
straighten the boat up, Debbie let go of it.

I pulled my own shorts down and forced Debbie's tied hands on to my cock 
while Eric used his grip on her flanks to ride her up and down his prick.

"Oh, No!" said Debbie.  "Guys! Please don't!"

She started crying, a muffled moaning sound made rhythmic by the fucking 
Eric was giving her. Eric maneuvered her into a standing position. She was 
bent over holding onto my cock and he was fucking her from behind. I steered 
the boat with one hand and tangled my other hand in her hair to keep her 
still and hold her head up. Her hair was soft and downy.  I used it to pull 
her lips against my cock but she wouldn't open her mouth, so I had to be 
satisfied with her hanging on to it. Eric was working hard at her other end. 
  I guess he'd already come once this morning so it took him a while to get 
himself off.  By the time he did come Debbie had quit her crying and was 
just grunting in two-four time.

"Oh, shit!" cried Eric. "Here it comes!" And he let loose inside her.

Eric pulled out straight away, his still hard cock glistening and dripping 
in the sun.

"I'll take the wheel," said Eric.

Eric shoved Debbie away from him and took the wheel.  I pulled her over to 
the cockpit cushions and pushed her down.  She held up her bound hands.

"Aren't you going to untie me now?"

"I don't think so.  You'll do fine like that."

Her face was red, and puffy and tear-stained. I knelt on the cockpit floor 
and pushed her legs apart. There were wet streaks on the inside of her 
thighs and her bush was wet and matted.

"Please, Lew. Use a condom."

"I don't need to," I said, and pushed, or rather, slid into her.  It's funny 
fucking a woman that somebody else just fucked.  You feel as if you missed 
the first part of the show.  She was loose and slippery inside, but it was 
that funny sort of "slippery with friction" feeling you get inside a pussy 
that someone already shot their load into. I'd never had sloppy seconds 
before, and it felt good.  This was the second time Eric and I had done a 
woman together - but last time it was his wife, in the sleeping bag on that 
camping trip. I suppose it was only fair that that this time it was my turn 
to thrust away inside an already soaked pussy.

Debbie lay there on the cushions and watched me fucking her, but she didn't 
say anything.  I couldn't tell whether she was enjoying it or not. She was 
grunting and heaving in time to the in and out and her face was red and 
blotchy. I don't know if that was because of the sex or just because it was 
hot and she'd been crying.

It was good to fuck a woman her size.  You didn't feel she was going to 
break if you did it hard. She had a good solid feel to her. She was big 
enough that she filled the space on the cockpit cushions, and I could slam 
away at her pussy as vigorously as I liked and she didn't move much. I got a 
fast rhythm going.  I fucked her furiously.  I was desperate to come in her, 
but she was so wet that I couldn't quite get enough friction.

"Come on Debbie, give it to me.  Make me come!"

My cock slid in and out, fast and slick, right up to the hilt, as far and as 
fast as I could push it.  The speed nearly made up for the lack of friction 
- but I was like one of those over-lubricated drilling machines in a machine 
shop that are bathed in oil so they don't overheat.  And the deck was hard 
on my knees.  I loved the feel of my cock sliding in her, but the harder I 
fucked her the more my knees hurt.
I think she was beginning to enjoy it because by the time I decided I 
couldn't stand the pain in my knees any more she had a sloppy slack-jawed 
smile on her face, but maybe it was just because she was drunk.

"Get on your knees."

She held out her bound hands and I pulled her up.  She knelt on the cushions 
with her head pushed through the safety lines on the side of the boat and I 
knelt on the cushions behind her and speared her again with my swollen 
prick.  The angle of her pussy was much better and it had some grip and 
resistance to it this time and I knew she would soon get me off. I was 
pretty far gone anyway and I could feel that "gotta come" sensation in the 
root of my cock, so I gave it to her as hard and fast as I could.

It didn't take me long to reach the point of no return and a few days worth 
of spunk came boiling out of me.  I buried my cock in her and exploded a 
barrage of semen as deep inside her as I could.  She let out a big groan and 
squeezed down on me. I hung on to her hips until the aftershocks stopped 
coming, and enjoyed the sensation of being inside her and the warmth of her 
broad and beautiful ass.

Finally I let her go and she turned rounds and held out her hands."Now untie 
me!"

I tried to kiss her but she turned her head away.  I untied the bikini top 
and freed her hands and she got unsteadily to her feet.  She put one hand 
between her legs to catch the goop that was leaking out and staggered to the 
companionway and disappeared below.

"Wow!" said Eric. "I never saw anything like that before.  That was fucking 
unreal."

I laughed.

"We are two bad fuckers, that's for sure!" said Eric.

"I'll take the wheel," I said, picking up my shorts. "You go and see if 
she's all right - and pass me up a beer."

Eric came back in a couple of minutes with a cold one for each of us. "She's 
going to sleep.  Got to sleep it off I think.  She was pretty tanked."

"She sure was.  She's a pretty good fuck though, isn't she?"

"Was!" said Eric. "Was a good fuck!"

We went on to talk about other things. The skyscrapers of Chicago came up 
over the horizon and Eric and I spent a happy few hours reminiscing, downing 
beers and eating more than our share of greasy potato chips.  It was the 
sort of afternoon that we would remember for a long time - the companionship 
of two guys with nothing to worry them except how many beers were left in 
the ice chest.

My wife met us at the dock in Chicago.  Eric and Debbie got off the boat 
together to go and find the car they had left in the parking lot, so they 
could return to Michigan and pick up their other car in which they had 
driven to the boat.

My wife said "She doesn't look very happy."

"No," I said. "They just broke up."


(C) Jim Dogget February 2006 /files/Authors/jim_dogget

Thanks for reading.  Do let me know what you thought of it.
jim_dogget@hotmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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