To any onlooker, I presented the perfect instructor’s image, attentive to my students and interacting with the group of ten aspiring Scuba Instructors. After ten days of class and pool work, today would consist of them demonstrating they could actually conduct a class in an ocean environment.

As the Course Director, should they meet the standards of performance, which I deem met the criteria, they would obtain their Instructor Certificate.

Onlookers would be mistaken. My attention and outward demeanor betrayed the fact that one student, in particular, was getting 90 percent of my attention. Patricia was a twenty-something student who roused every measure of lust within me. A cute curvaceous strawberry blond who always was bubbly and fun to be around. She had been the class clown and the best student in the group.

In the classwork, which consisted of learning how to lecture on specific topics, she invariably not only followed the required formulaic approach but managed to make her presentations fun. She had inspired the other students to try harder.

While in the class pool work, she frankly had been a distraction in her skin-tight speedo bathing suit. I smiled whenever her practice partner spent more time looking at her full breasts than at what she was doing. The surreptitious rearrangement of stiffening male members when her back was turned was comical. I was not immune to the phenomenon.

I was conducting the final exercises at Cape Neddick in York Beach, Maine, a rocky peninsula at the end of which sits the renowned Nubble lighthouse.

Before suiting up, the students conducted the briefings required to demonstrate their ability to do so when they had real students in the future. Then, after the presentations, we suited up.

Just before suiting up, Patricia approached me and said she had to pee. I indicated the clam shack’s toilet, about 100 feet away, and she strolled up to it.

She was back in a trice. “That place stinks, Tom. I can’t go in there,” she said with a grimace.

“Well, there aren’t many options here, and we have to be in the water before the hordes of tourists descend on this place. So just put on your wet suit and pee when you are in the water.”

She looked at me as if I was crazy and gave me a sweet smile before going to suit up.

As I had expected from this group, they performed flawlessly. About an hour later, we were back on dry land and removing our equipment. Patricia returned to the water’s edge and rinsed her suit in the ocean. She saw my grin and gave me a thumbs up, signifying mission success.

I sat in my truck, grading the students and filling in the paperwork and temporary Instructor Certificates. Then, I called them up one by one and debriefed them. Patricia was the last to come up, and when I came to shake her hand to congratulate her on her success, she put her arms around me and kissed my cheek. I pulled back as it had always been my practice to be scrupulously professional with my students. However, she was irresistible, and I permitted her to pull me against her.

After a few seconds, we broke apart, and she smiled and said, “Tom, you are a great instructor and role model. Thank you for a great course.”

“Thank YOU for being a great student. Are you coming to the York Harbor Inn with the rest of the group?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Great! I’ll meet you there.”

I finally got out of my wet suit, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, packed my gear, started my truck, and drove off. On the way, I stopped for gas. By the time I got to the Inn, the whole group had already arrived and formed a table in the outdoor dining area that would accommodate all of us.

Pitchers of beer were served, and soon after, bowls of clam chowder, sweet potato fries, fried clams, and oysters were brought out.

We were seated on benches facing each other, and Patricia was next to me. She had changed into a pair of skin-tight denim shorts and a loose pink sweatshirt. We were so close together that I could feel her bare thigh brush against mine from time to time. There was no way I could distance myself without sitting on the lap of the student sitting on the other side of me. I decided to grin and bear it since I was not initiating the contact, which seemed accidental on her part.

However, all good things must end, and we all rose to leave. When I came to pay my bill, I discovered that the group had chipped in and covered my share.

Back in my truck, I sat there for a few minutes, daydreaming as to what it would be like to have someone like Patricia in my life. I, by no means, was sexually deprived. However, I had not found a woman to date who shared my passion for diving and my love for the ocean. As a result, I had become, in no small measure, celibate.

I was tired of courting women who would not understand why I was not a lawyer, a banker, or some such occupation.

After the daydream, I started to head out of the parking lot when I saw Patricia bent over and staring into the hood of her car.

I circled around and topped. “Problems? I asked.

“Yep! It won’t start.””You have gas?”

She looked at me with a scowl before answering, “Nope, it’s not the fuel. I think it’s the starter.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure. I have this problem when it’s humid like today or when it rains. Well, old Betsy here is on her last legs. No great loss; I was getting rid of her at the end of the month anyway. You going into Boston?”

“Yes.”

Would you give me a ride into the city, and then I can get a cab home?”

“Sure, put your gear into the back and hop in.”

“Give me a second. I must let the restaurant people know the car will be here overnight.”

She returned, climbed in, and we took off.

I asked her, “In a rush, or shall I take the scenic route?”

“I’m in no rush. Let’s take the scenic route.”

As we headed down route 1A along the coast, I could sense her presence next to me and regretted I could not look at her as I drove. However, from time to time, I would glance at her as we spoke and noticed that she was the type of woman who really focused on the person she was with. Her lustrous green eyes seemed to never leave me.

“Patricia, what area do you live in?” I asked to determine which highway I should take to enter the city.

“Cambridge.”

“That’s great! We’re almost next-door neighbors. I can drop you off at your front door if you wish.”

“Really. Where do you live?”

“Just next door in Arlington.”

“Well, I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“No, it’s on my way, and I am free for the rest of the weekend, anyways.”

“What, no wife or girlfriend? I’m surprised.”

“Why are you surprised?”

“I thought you must surely be in a relationship with all your opportunities.”

“Patricia, I’m going to give you some advice. You are now an instructor. With your looks, you will be hit on by most of your male students and probably some female ones. So you have to resist any temptations as they can bring you nothing but trouble.”

“I know. It’s been obvious since I decided to go the route to becoming an instructor that it would happen. Every guy in our class hit on me at least once except for you. So I think it is just as well that I am moving away, and I don’t want any entanglements before I leave.”

“Where are you off to?”

“I purchased a dive operation in St. Lucia, and I leave at the end of the month.”

“You did?”

“Darn right. You didn’t think I was doing this to freeze my ass off here in New England?”

“You have a point. In winter, I travel to various warm water locations to teach.”

“Well, maybe you would like to come and teach when I am up and running.”

“That’s an idea. Speaking of ideas, what’s your timetable today?”

“I have nothing planned. Why?”

“We are close to the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge. Have you ever been?”

“No. Were you aware that she is one of my heroes? It was reading her books that got me interested in the sea and ecology.”

“One of mine also. Want to go to visit?”

“That would be wonderful. I’d really enjoy that.”

I turned my truck around, and we headed back North. I learned a lot about Patricia that I had not known. She was a financial wizard for a tech start-up and had graduated with an MBA from Babson College. She planned to use that expertise to create a one-of-a-kind dive operation in St Lucia.

She was also now unattached, having ended a relationship with a long-time boyfriend. But, unfortunately, he wanted to stand in the way of her plans.

We arrived at the reserve, and I pulled into the parking lot. “Well, Patricia, we have choices. We can take a trail that will lead us through the natural habitat, then through the tidal marshes and end at the ocean, or just do the natural habitat. Which do you prefer?”

“I want to see it all. Will we get to see wildlife, do you think?”

“Well, if you’re really good, I will ask the next red squirrel we meet to gather its friends so we can have a party.”

She climbed into the back of the truck and retrieved a camera. “Tom, will our stuff be safe here?” she asked.

“Let me put the cover over the bed. We are within sight of the wardens, so it should be fine.”

We started down the trail, and Patricia seemed to have an eye for spotting birds and wildlife. I had been here often, yet she showed me things I had never spotted before. These included two different types of Hawks, a Redtail and a Goshawk. She picked out some deer in the distance, and we watched as they placidly made their way between the pine trees.

About fifteen minutes into the hike, she stopped and looked around. “What’s wrong? I asked.

“Damn that beer. I need to pee.”

“The public toilets are back at the gate.”

“That’s not going to work. By the time we get back, I’ll have peed my shorts. So turn around and don’t look. I’m going to go behind those bushes.”

“OK. Just watch out that there’s no poison ivy.”

I heard the rustling of leaves as she disappeared behind a shrub. Soon I heard the rustle of dead foliage as I presume her urine was striking the forest floor. I risked a peek and was rewarded with the sight of the prettiest pussy I’d seen in a long time, releasing a steady stream of urine. I could see her shorts next to her but no underwear. The upper part of her body was hidden, and I could only see her from the waist down. It seemed she was going commando style.

I heard a sigh of relief within a few minutes, and she returned from her refuge.

“My turn,” I said.

I went to the same spot she had used, unlimbered my cock, and proceeded to void my bladder, knowing full well that if she peeked, she would see my cock.

Zipping up, I returned, and she looked at me with a small smile. “Now, where have you been hiding that magnificent tool? She asked.

“You peeked?”

“Yes, I’m a curious observer of nature. Not only did I peek, but I captured the moment for posterity. Here look at this great picture. I will treasure it for a long time. “Truth time. Did you peek at me?”

“Uhh ... Yes.”

“Did you like the view?”

“Patricia, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” I said, feeling my face blush.

She faced me and let the back of her hand brush against my cock. “What say if we were to go back and explore some possibilities?”

“You mean...?”

“Tom, I’ve had a crush on you since the first day of class. I’m ready for a fling if you’re interested. Remember, I’m no longer your student.”

“Patricia, I’ll race you to the truck.”

We arrived at the truck out of breath. When we had climbed in and regained our composure, she leaned across, and her face approached mine. The ensuing kiss was passion laden and sweet. She then sat back and said, “Beam us home, Mr. Spock.”

I must have broken all speed records on the drive down I-95. Patricia snuggled against me, and we had difficulty keeping our hands to ourselves. She delighted in teasing me and rubbing my inner thigh. I fought to keep my attention on the road. I yearned to touch her also, but every time I placed my hand on her leg, she brushed it away. “Pay attention to driving. Fun and games are soon to happen,” she giggled, and then she would give my cock a caress through my shorts.

When we got to the city, Patricia directed me to her home in West Cambridge. We drove along the Charles River, and then she had me make a left onto a side street. Halfway up the block, she had me pull up into a driveway in front of a typical New England house with a Sold Sign in front of it.

“Yours?” I asked.

“Used to be. I sold it last week. Come on in,” she said, taking my arm and escorting me up the front steps.

Once the door was closed behind us, she turned and draped her arms around my neck. “Kiss me, Tom. I have fantasized about this moment for the last ten days.”

I wrapped her in my arms, and our lips met. Her mouth devoured me as if I was to be her last meal ever.

My hands explored her tight ass, and I could feel her erect nipples pushing against my chest. The kiss left us both panting with need.

She broke free and led me up a set of stairs to the bathroom. On the way up, she shed every stitch of clothing she was wearing, leaving me a view of her rounded ass and long legs. “Time for a shower. Care to join me?” she asked.

“Wild horses could not drag me away,” I said, giving her a playful slap on the ass as I started to get out of my clothes.