I was busy coveting. The object of my covet? Dave's wife Carol. A most covetable woman. I'm not sure if covetable is even a word, but then, who cares. Coveting is a harmless sport and Carol's long legs and beautiful face made for an exhilarating covet. Of course, coveting should never go any further. Carol constantly made this a difficult rule to follow. Her pretty rear end strained against her shorts as she bent to crank the starboard winch on their sailboat. We were slowly overtaking them on a starboard tack, and Dave was bellowing orders as Carol cranked...
"Steve, not so close," shrieked my wife Linda, breaking my concentration and ending a perfectly satisfying covet.
I eased the helm and fell off a point to widen the gap between the two boats. I could see Dave glaring at me. Good, I thought. Dave is a prick--a rich prick. He inherited it. He is also married to Carol- a "second wife" who epitomizes the term "trophy wife."
With another couple, we were crewing our sloop "Hammerhead" on the final downwind course of a local race. Neck in neck with my arch-rival Dave Van Horn, we both maneuvered for position.
Dave was at the helm and Carol manned the starboard winch as our sloops charged down the final leg. Carol's pretty little butt was still sticking out, so I engaged in another quick covet. I'm not exactly sure of the exact definition of coveting anther's wife, but I was surely engaging in something approximating the biblical warning. What the hell, I thought. I'll look the word up when I got home.
"Linda, we're not that close," I shouted to calm her. The bastard's trying to pinch me off course. He got me last month, but not this time," I shouted trying to reassure her. "Hang on, I'm going to cross his wake and make my move to windward.
"Damn testosterone. Don't cut it too close."
"I've never beaten Dave." To the crew I hollered, "Ready about!"
"Linda, this time I've got the bastard."
Tacking to port the boom came swiftly over. Linda and crew expertly winched in the jib, adjusted the traveler and trimmed the main. Traversing Dave's wake our anchor missed his stern by inches. I steered "Hammerhead" another point into the wind and headed for the finish line. He covered by making his own turn, but it was too late. Almost immediately, "Hammerhead was between the wind and Dave's boat and took the wind out of his sails. Yes, took the wind out of his sails-love that old cliché-almost as well as coveting. I was close enough to see Dave's eyes narrow. Carol on the other hand was wide-eyed as she watched the maneuvers.
The wind gusted, "Hammerhead" heeled further... race as good as won, I decided to engage in one last covet... I returned my gaze to Carol. Not only did she have beautiful legs, but her nipples protruded nicely from...
Then, I not so much heard it but felt it. The jib split with a horrible shrieking sound. "Hammerhead" slowed and Dave moved smoothly past me.
"Steve, it's not that bad." Linda and I were finishing cleaning "Hammerhead" which was now moored in our slip.
"I know, I know. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't care. But Linda, you know he likes to critique me."
"Just ignore him. Why do you always go to his boat after the race? He just needles you?"
"Club tradition, you know. Winner buys. When I beat the bastard, we'll have him over here. I don't want to give him any excuse not to show up next month, when I run him off the bay."
"Ok dummy. Take your medicine from Dave. I'll visit with Carol. She's such a sweetie. Can't imagine why she stays with him.
I felt this wasn't a good time to mention my afternoon's coveting. I don't cheat on my wife, but, of course, coveting...
True to "tradition" we finished cleaning and stepped aboard Dave and Carol's boat. Carol was below and Dave was topside seated against the mast, drink in hand working on his boom vang.
"Bad luck there Stevie-boy. I told you that jib was looking a bit worn. Head on down and make yourself a drink. Carol has all the makings out."
I followed Linda down the ladder. Carol was seated against the starboard bulkhead. Damn she was gorgeous. Tall and trim, she shook her honey blond hair as her face flowered in a welcoming smile. She exuded sex appeal. But then, she was somewhat of a prude. In all the years I'd know her, I'd fostered hope that she would someday appear topless, like many other ladies in the sail club or, at least, in something other than her demure one piece suits. No luck so far.
Carol smiled, "Here to talk to Dave?" Both she and Linda rolled their eyes. "I've opened a nice bottle of wine for Linda." She indicated a half-empty bottle in front of her. "You can mix yourself a strong one at the bar."
Both women turned their attention from caring for me, the defeated warrior, to more pressing matters-makeup. Carol is a sales person for a well-known brand of cosmetics (yes she has one of those cars) and Linda never missed a chance to visit and purchase new selections of potions, creams and paints.
I mixed dark Barbados rum with tonic and finished with a squeeze of lime. One thing Dave was not was cheap. I sneaked a quick covet as Carol applied a wondrous new shade to her lush lips with a tiny brush. Linda critiqued the application as she also tried a new shade. True to form, the first shade was never right. Both ladies wiped off the first layer and tried new wondrous hues.
Speaking of critiques, it was time for mine. I noticed Dave had a large metal ice chest centered under a hatch, so I removed my boat shoes, stepped up, and put my head and shoulders through the hatch. Resting my arms and drink on the cabin deck, I was about three feet from Dave.
"Well hell son, you made some good moves today," Dave began his diatribe.
"You made a nice windward run, but I notice a bit of excessive luff on your main." I gritted my teeth and nodded.
"Stevie-boy you got to pay more attention to the positioning of your jib blocks." I began to plan a lecture for my next months' victory.
"Hell boy, that was a nice turn, but you also got to select a better crew next time. Now, let me tell you about the race I won last month. I skippered a boat off Martha's Vinyard. That was a race..."
My mind wandered. I contemplated pouring my drink on the deck and leaving.
A hand touched my ankle. Linda, trying to reassure me. Dave's voice was quite loud, and I was sure the women below could hear every word. Laughter filtered up from the cabin.
"Sounds like the ladies are having a good time below. Now those Boston boys..." Dave continued.
I lost track of his conversation and concentrated on the hand now traveling up my leg.
"They really do know how to sail, but Stevie-boy..."
The hand hesitated then went under my shorts. Damn, Linda's getting a little frisky with Carol sitting there. Perhaps Carol is in the head. The hand will disappear in few moments.
"Of course, I showed em a few things..."
A finger slipped under the band of my underwear.
"Yes, the Boston boys, they did have some nice equipment, but didn't exactly..."
The finger found the sensitive place behind my scrotum.
Dave watched me intently. "You should have seen it Stevie boy. I jumped em all at the start line."
The finger massaged the backside of my balls.
"I kept an eye to weather..."
I felt a tugging at my zipper and heard the surprisingly loud sound of it opening. Damn, I thought, the zipper is almost as loud as the jib splitting. To my relief, Dave apparently could hear nothing.
"It wasn't my boat, of course, but I knew..."
A second finger slipped into my fly and traced my hardening cock (which Linda calls Beauregard or Beau) through my underwear. Damn I wondered where the hell was Carol while Linda was playing this game?
"I had them retention the aft stay..."
The hands unfastened my belt and slid my shorts to my ankles. Above deck my hand shook and I spilled part of my drink as I wondered if I had worn my best underwear. Dave snorted at my clumsiness.
A finger tugged at the waist band of my shorts. My knees began to shake. Dave intently stared at me but continued.
"She sprang forward when I did that and..."
The finger pulled my shorts forward. A second hand reached in and fingertips gently touched my stiffening cock.
"Shit boy, I had a good lead on them half way to the windward mark and..."
The hand closed around Beau and began a slow stroking motion.
"The Boston boys did have some good rum, so I indulged in a drink while we..."
The hands pulled my shorts to my ankles.
"Of course, I was the first to catch the wind shift and..."
.... There is more of this story ...