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Sailing With Emmett

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: John9999 Posted on: 24 Apr 2007 1 comments
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I had known Emmett through high school and we went to the same community college. The name on her birth certificate was Eimhear, something Irish. But she refused to acknowledge it, and even insisted that they call her Emmett during commencement. We were friends, and had run around together, but had never actually dated. Needless to say, she maintained a leading role in the fantasies that foddered by endless jack-off sessions. I was not surprised when she asked me to spend a weekend sailing with her. I was surprised to learn that it would be just the two of us. The boat was twenty-six feet long and two people could easily handle it. She was an excellent sailor and often we out in it alone, she told me.The boat was stocked for the weekend with plenty of food, water and beverages. We planned to sail across the lake, arriving in the afternoon. There we'd anchor for the night. Our beds were ready in the aft cabin. Each voyage has a point-of-no-return; when it is as far back to the beginning as on to the destination. We were well past that point when a rogue thunderstorm appeared. As if sent to call on us, it paused and poured rain down on us. In no time we were soaked to the skin. It was a warm day, and at first did not mind being wet. Our clothing was nearly transparent. Beneath her nearly transparent shirt and shorts I noticed she wore something red, tiny, and sexy. Eventually the rain stopped and the warm sun dried or soaked clothing. After we anchored and put away the sails, we realized that we were a bit disheveled. Emmett stated matter-of-factly that she was going to change. I paused uncertain how we could choreograph our modesty. She began to unbutton her shirt, and explained that cramped conditions on the boat "dilute modesty." She went on, I haven't any surprises and I doubt that you have any either. But my memory refused to release the memory of Emmett's red secrets. I shrugged and began undressing, adhering to our "When in Rome, do as the Romans do . . ." philosophy. Over the years, I'd seen her in stages of dress and undress. But today was different. Beneath her clothing, she was wearing a thong bikini and though I think she "trimmed" wisps of light brown pubic hair escaped the tiny triangle of cloth hopelessly struggling to keep the last secret of her treasures. Her red halter was so thin it revealed more than it concealed, and provided no support. The perfect shape of Emmett's breasts startled me. They were not large and imposing, nor small and diminutive. The outline of her nipples made an erotic swell in the center of each breast. I watch, hypnotized, by the how her breasts rose and fell with each breathe. Emmett's voice was calm as it snapped by attention back to reality. She announced that we'd have a picnic dinner. No cooking's required. There's less clean up.After dinner I sat with my head and shoulders poked through the hatch in the front of the boat. Other boats were anchored nearby, and the picnic area ashore was busy. First I heard her voice, and then her soft hand touched my bare leg. I brought you a ginger ale she said, as she handed it to me. She sat at my feet, while her hand lingered on my leg. Even with my privileged view, I could not tell if she was still wearing the red halter.I do not remember what we talked about, although I know I enjoyed talking to her. Her closeness and her touching gave me a hard-on that could no longer be kept a secret.Emmett's hand moved smoothly to my erection. She unhesitating said I noticed you watching my breasts while we changed. I crave your company too. Without another word she slipped my cock out of my shorts and softly touched it. When I started to sink into the boat she stopped me saying, "It's ok, stay there, they'll never know, unless you tell them." Her hands caressed my hard-on with unbelievable affection, admiration, and attention. She enjoyed touching my cock and balls as much as I enjoyed being caressed. When she stopped I glanced down and saw her open a plastic bottle, that I recognized as intimate moisturizer. Pouring a generous potion on her hands she returned her attention to my erection. Emmett was not hurrying or delaying. My shorts had slipped down to my ankles and I kicked them off. The next time I glanced down, her blouse was unbuttoned and her perfect breasts swayed every so slightly. I noticed for the first time her utterly beautiful nipples. Again and again she coated her hands and fingers with moisturizer and softly moved them over my cock and balls. She occasionally told me to "enjoy" or "let the pleasure take you" and "this is your moment." The boats, people, and activities of the world about me went about their business unaware of my rapture. With each move of her hand I was becoming less and less aware of the activities of the world. She softly told me how beautifully horny I appeared.Emmett's moves were unhurried, however my passion was unstoppable. As my hips moved uncontrollably she urged me to "come now" "feel the pleasure" "yes, come hard now."Her soft slippery hands stroked my hard cock, and brushed my overloaded balls. She was extraordinarily patient and urgent, so that I simply let her magic fingers and hands take over. Orgasm was uninterruptible, and formidable. I moaned loudly; someone must have heard me. My body was uncontrollable. My mind was captured in pleasure. Nothing, and no one could disrupt my rapture. In a useless effort to keep my orgasm secret I had laid my head in my arms folded across the hatch, and then buried my face in my arms. Slowly I became aware of Emmett's hand holding my cock. She looked up at me and smiled. Did you tell anyone? She asked with a sweet smile. Let's just say that I was very considerate of Emmett's pleasure the rest of the weekend, and thereafter.