There once was a miner named Dave,
Who kept a dead whore in his cave.
She was ugly as shit,
And missing one tit,
But think of the money he saves.
If you own a sailboat, especially one that is a 'liveaboard' and has room for guests, then you know how many people want to be your friend. It got so bad that I disappeared four days out of six somewhere up the coast of British Columbia with a cellular phone number only a few knew.
That is not to say I don't like friends coming over and having a bit of fun; rather, I take exception to those that couldn't be bothered to give me any of their time when I was a broke student a few years ago. Nope, savor the true friends, I've learned.
Yet I'm not here to have a bitch session about how people seem to just end up wanting to come over for an hour or a weekend. Nope, rather it's simply about an afternoon I shared with my Slave Marnie. The friend part is just how we ended upon a sandbar for an afternoon.
I'm Caesar, if you haven't yet read any of my other accounts between my Slave and me.
Well, I love the ocean - it seems to be a part of me. Always has been since I grew up in Prince Edward Island and played catch with jellyfish and used seaweed as a mattress to lay upon. So living on the ocean was how I spent my money and my free time. It was during a weekday that I planned on going back out - I'm able to work off the boat as long as my cellular can connect to the Internet. Well, David and his girlfriend had sort of dropped by and we shared a tiny supper together. I invited them along for a four-day cruise up the Strait of Georgia to discover a new inlet to anchor. The last I had to leave as I became frustrated when another sailor woke me up late one night playing the damn bagpipes.
I'm really getting to the point, so stay with me.
The first three days were great, and David and his friend were very accommodating and helped crew my ship. My Slave Marnie was subdued, at least in expressing her own sexuality. Normally she barely wore clothing about my ship. Having guests did really put a cramp on my sex life.
Now, I'm not complaining, but rather giving evidence that another way had to be found. Normally we had days to ourselves, without anyone within sight, and after only a few hours it seemed that my friends were suffocating us.
Or maybe I was just horny. If you know me, then you'd probably agree.
So, late on the fourth morning, I threw a few things into the zodiac and then guided my Slave down into it. Dave and his girlfriend waved to us goodbye, and I think they were anxious to be alone on my boat. I'm sure they sampled a bit of sexual play while we were gone.
Around the point we soon found ourselves out of sight and hopefully out of mind. Marnie leaned over and grasped the bulge in my shorts as soon was we lost sight of the hull. "Why don't you find a spot and park this dory?" The grin she gave me left little to doubt her intentions. It seemed my Slave, and very good friend, was insatiable when it comes to sex. Oh well, I'm sure you're not going to feel sorry for me, huh?
Laughing, I aimed towards a group of rocks out past the visible land.
Now, if I don't put a stop to any advances Marnie may give she would continue until her objective had been reached. We were both the same in that regard. Busy rowing, I didn't mind her familiar hand upon my covered cock. It may have been enough to convince her to continue with her objective. As often was the case, that objective was my dick. Big surprise, though that certainly is not a complaint.
I watched and silently thanked myself for such a desirable wench for a Slave. As she pulled my loose shorts to the side, freeing my already half-hard cock, and then leaned forward and engulfed my manhood into her hungry mouth.
Now, Marnie loves to suck cock. In the morning, at night, before sex or between sex - she just can't seem to be get enough of my manhood in her warm wet mouth. As you may well imagine, I greatly enjoy this aspect of our relationship. I sometimes can be a greedy bugger about my pleasure.
At that moment, it was no different. Yet I had to pilot the small craft while trying to enjoy those sucking lips. I wasn't too successful and simply dropped my work and grabbed the back of her head. Not that she would stop without a direct command from me, but rather I wanted to guide the speed of her bobbing face. I wanted to finish very quickly - the lack of an orgasm those last couple of days now forced my blood to boil quicker than normal and my Slave enjoyed every moment. If left to her own devices she could make oral love to that part of my anatomy for an hour, but I couldn't wait an hour.
I often thought that at such moments, the Slave became the Master - that her lips controlled our relationship and I would do just about anything for her to finish me at that moment. Though I've not a submissive bone in my body as I'm sure my friends would tell you if asked, it's the only time I find myself being 'controlled'.
Okay, so it took me less time to shoot my cum down the hungry throat of my Slave than it took to write these last few paragraphs explaining it. My only excuse is that lack of sex the last couple of days. At that moment, neither of us were worried, for after my initial quick release, the next would be memorable.
My senses finally returned while my Slave licked my wilted cock slowly, savoring every intimate touch. Our craft was almost upon the shore north of the cluster of rocks I had been aiming for.
Well, rather than fight the waves back out, I simply grounded the zodiac up onto the rocky beach. I doubt if my Slave even noticed that we had beached yet, and I had to lift her face by her chin to bring her attention back.
I simply winked at her and knew she understood - I greatly enjoyed that blow job, and I would be returning the favor soon enough. She smiled brightly at me. Sometimes I thought words were unimportant and that I was able to convey more without them. She had been my Slave and companion long enough to get the non-verbal message I conveyed.
Lord, she was a great Slave and a beautiful woman!
We jumped out of the craft and as I secured it with the anchor she gathered the small day packs for us. "I wanted to see those rocks, so how's that for a destination?"
"Sounds great. Do you want to carry the heavy one?" She was joking - of course I would carry the heavy pack. Hell, if I didn't, do you think I'd tell you?
It was only a few hundred meters and, at the deepest, half a meter of water before we found ourselves standing on a sandbar at the foot of rocks. When I was a kid I knew of the best places to go to get clams and after a few quick looks knew this was a great spot to dig a few up.
I dropped our packs and of course my Slave's shorts and bathing suit while leaving only a oversized white shirt covering her on the shadowed side of the rocks. I asked her to gather some kelp and smiled at the face she made and then turned to go back to some ankle- deep water we had passed through to get at our small camp.
I watched my Slave often, enjoying the sight of her semi-clad body as she timidly picked out the cleanest pieces of weed. It was an amusing sight, her the city girl, one that I always enjoyed showing a life outside of the concrete and steel places.
Before long, I had dug up half a leather pail of generous-sized clams and Marnie had lost her tender attitude towards the kelp. I knew it would happen - she would discover there was nothing wrong with the sea's weed and her timidness was gone before I returned.
"What is all this seaweed for, Master?"
I dropped a small handful of dried beach wood. "To cook with - or don't you want lunch?"
"I'd rather have more of your cock!" I looked up at her bluntness. That is my Slave, my private little slut. Just the way I liked her. She grinned at my gentle and patient look. "Seaweed - yuck!"
"Steamed clams are great, lass. Now, I'm just going to set this bucket to sit for a while to clean 'em out. Make sure the tide doesn't take it out so keep half an eye on it."
"Sure. You ready for your next lesson in swimming?"
I grinned and started to pull off my clothing, and she immediately giggled and did the same with her last remaining garment. The lesson was a private joke - that I could barely tread water and loved the sea, while she's a city girl who swim with ease. Frustrating for a dominant, in an embarrassing sort of way.
I may not be able to swim but I can hold my breath and jump the waves easily. And that is essentially what I ended up doing. She practically swam laps about me and we played sort of a erotic tag which she allowed me to win. I would never have caught her in the water. The ocean was a comfortable sixteen degrees centigrade, just cold enough that my manhood was a very embarrassing size. After a stern look she at least tried to stifle the laugh that appeared when I went back to the cluster of rocks.
.... There is more of this story ...