Chapter 8

Early Friday afternoon, we were out on my parents’ boat, cruising through an isolated stretch of the Intracoastal between Peanut and Singer Islands. The sun beat down mercilessly, reflecting off the water and creating a shimmering, diamond-like effect that danced across the surface. The area was a haven for water skiers, and during the summer, we made it a point to visit a couple of times a week, seeking the thrill of the wake and the exhilaration of speed. Despite growing up in Denver and never having skied before, Leigh had taken to the sport with remarkable ease. She handled the monoski with grace and agility, her body cutting through the water as if she were born to it.

Today the water was relatively calm, with only one other boat nearby, idling slowly as it prepared to drop another skier into the water. There was no immediate need to coordinate our routes ... something we’d often do when the water was crowded to avoid putting skiers at risk. Even though coordination wasn’t necessary today, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to introduce ourselves ... just to keep an eye out for one another.

I pulled our boat alongside theirs, the engines roaring as I kept us in place. “HOW ARE YOU DOING! THIS IS LEIGH AND I’M CHRIS!” I yelled above the noise, pointing to Leigh and continuing, “LOOKS LIKE WE ARE GOING TO BE SKIING TOGETHER.”

The other boat was occupied by three teenage boys, clearly related, with the same sandy hair, slim muscular builds, and infectious grins. The older and taller of the three, Tommy, shouted back, “HI! I’M TOMMY!” He gestured to the two other boys and continued, “THESE ARE MY BROTHERS, TODD AND TAD.”

Leigh, drawing the attention of the three occupants, moved to the side of our boat. She wore a striking bright yellow bikini that left little to the imagination. The top consisted of tiny triangles held together by thin strings that barely covered her areolas, the fabric unlined and delicate, promising to turn nearly transparent once wet. The high-cut bottoms hugged her hips, the thong back disappearing between her perfect ass cheeks, leaving her nearly nude from behind. The front dipped low, skimming the edge of modesty, barely covering the top of her vaginal slit. Her body glistened in the sunlight, the droplets of suntan oil clinging to her skin like jewels, accentuating every curve and line of her toned physique.

I throttled back on the motor so we could speak more normally, and Tommy followed suit. “It looks like we might be the only boats water skiing today ... and I don’t think we’ll get in each other’s way ... but it still might be good for us to look out for each other. Let’s keep in touch on channel nine,” I suggested.

“Sounds good!” Tommy responded with a thumbs-up, and a leering grin toward Leigh.

Once I had idled our boat away from the other group, the middle brother jumped off the stern with the tow rope in hand. The youngest brother, Tad, handed the skis over the side to his older brother. We were a good three hundred feet away when Tommy accelerated his boat, lifting his brother onto his skis. They sped past, waving at us enthusiastically.

“Okay, Babe, why don’t you go first,” I said to Leigh as I turned to face her, my eyes hidden behind my polarized sunglasses. Leigh put on her ski jacket and, grabbing the tow rope, jumped into the water creating barely a ripple. I handed her the monoski, and she slid her feet into the boots, her movements efficient and practiced.

“Take it slow!” she yelled, her voice carrying over the water.

Idling the boat forward, I slowly removed the slack from the tow rope until Leigh was upright and beginning to ski. She slalomed from port to starboard, jumping over the wake with ease, her body a picture of concentration and control. I sailed the boat in a wide arc around the basin, and we passed by Tommy’s boat. Leigh waved as we went by, her smile radiant and carefree.

About fifteen minutes later, Leigh waved her hand, indicating she was done. I slowed the boat’s speed, letting her settle in the water. Turning the boat around, I pulled up beside Leigh and placed the ladder over the side so she could climb back aboard. While I pulled in the tow rope, Leigh shook off the water that covered her body, her movements fluid and graceful. She bent over and squeezed the water from her braided pigtails, her soaked bikini bottoms clinging to her, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her hairless pussy was barely concealed by the thin, wet fabric, the outline of her vaginal lips visible through the yellow material.

Leigh switched places with me behind the helm, and a few minutes later, I was in the water, getting ready to ski. The sun warmed my skin as I prepared, the anticipation of the ride coursing through my veins. I skied for about twenty minutes, the wind whipping past me, the spray kicking up and stinging my skin. It was exhilarating, the ultimate rush of adrenaline.

As I finished my run, I signaled Leigh, and she slowed the boat, coming to pick me up. Climbing back aboard, I asked, “Are you ready to go again?”

She smiled at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You betcha!”

Leigh grabbed the water ski handle and prepared to jump over the side into the water. But before she could leap, I tugged on the tow rope to get her attention. “Give me your bikini bottoms!” I demanded, my voice firm and authoritative.

“What are you talking about?” she replied, confusion written on her face.

“I want you to do the next run bottomless. So, give me your bikini bottoms,” I explained, my eyes locked on hers, daring her to refuse.

Sheepishly, Leigh slid her bikini bottoms down her long, muscular legs, the wet fabric peeling away from her skin with a sucking sound. She threw them at me, standing tall and proud, wearing nothing but her ski jacket, her hands on her hips, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Happy now?!”

“As I said, you should be bottomless all the time,” I teased, my gaze drifting over her body, taking in the sight of her naked pussy, her slit glistening with water and invitation.

Leigh stuck her tongue out at me and jumped over the side into the water with the tow rope in hand. I handed her the monoski, and, slipping her feet into the boots, she prepared for another run. Once Leigh was upright, she began slaloming from port to starboard, jumping the boat wake with the same skill and grace as before. As it was when she played the round of golf bottomless, from a distance, you couldn’t tell that she was nude from the waist down.