The House at Sand Pines
Chapter 8: A Joint Venture

Copyright© 2015 by Coaster2

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 8: A Joint Venture - An unlikely friendship begets unlikely gifts. And then there was "The Face." Stranger things might have happened, but not to me.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Romantic  

Saturday night, we anchored in an unnamed bay on the northwest corner of Texada Island. It was completely empty with no road access and no other boats in the vicinity. It was perfect for a secluded getaway with a good anchorage reasonably close to shore. I tucked the boat in along the west shore to avoid any northwest winds that might crop up during the night. We were completely sheltered from a southeast wind.

We took the inflatable and rowed ashore to a small beach. There was no sign that anyone had ever been there before, although that was unlikely.

"We should go exploring," Charlotte suggested.

"Sure. There are no bears or cougars on the island, so aside from bugs, we should be quite safe. You brought your camera, so you can look for scenic shots as we go. I don't want to go far from the water, since there are no roads in this area. I don't want to lose track of where the boat is. We'll pull the inflatable up on the beach and tuck it behind some of these big logs."

For the next two hours we hiked along the edge of the forests and the water, often having to skirt around sheer drops into the water. There was no sign of pathways and it was slow, tiring walking. I doubt we got much more than a kilometre from our starting point. Reluctantly, we turned back, retracing our footsteps to the little cove and our boat.

"That's enough exercise for the day," I said, retrieving the inflatable and heading back to the boat.

"I'm beat," Charlotte admitted. "You were right about being on the boat. It does wear you out more than you'd expect. I'd forgotten that from my previous experience."

"I didn't see any sign of shells on the beach, so I'm thinking there were no clams to be had. I'm a little leery of them anyway since Red Tide is common in this area. I doubt The Department of Fisheries would post any warning signs in this remote location. Better we should stick to the food I brought along."

"Sure. But right now, I could use a drink of wine," she said, sighing and leaning back on the cockpit cushions.

"Good idea. Coming right up." I went below and poured two glasses of Pino Gris into the plastic cups.

"It's beautiful in here, Nolan. The quiet, the scenery. I feel like we're a million miles away from civilization."

"Yes. It really is perfect, isn't it."

"I wanted to ask you what you're going to do for a career? You've as much as told me you don't see your current job as permanent."

"I don't know, Charlotte. I've been giving it a lot of thought. You're right, this local job is a dead-end situation. I participated in a seminar a few months ago with a number of people in the journalism and related businesses. It was pretty doom-and-gloom for the newspaper guys. There are still jobs in TV and radio, but those are hotly contested and most don't pay particularly well. On top of that, they are more controlled by time. There's only so much time to tell a story on radio, and usually even less on TV. So the style of writing is all about compression. Getting as much information into the smallest time slot available.

"There were a couple of interesting speakers at the seminar, however. A fellow named Jake Phaltz has developed a very successful and lucrative business translating foreign instruction pages and manuals for imported products. He started out fixing the mangled English that came with products from Asia and making it readable and understandable. He's originally from Quebec and is bilingual, so he handled that side of the business as well. He's since branched out into Spanish language projects and has hired some specialists to do a wider range of translations. I thought that was a very original way to create a career."

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "I'm fluent in French, both spoken and written."

"Really? How did that come about?"

"I was put in a French immersion school when I was seven and learned at a very early age. I'm really glad my parents did that. I feel like I've got some skills that others don't and I may be able to take advantage of that."

"I'm envious. That would be a big asset for me, too."

"I'd be happy to help if you run into a situation that you need a French translation. My fees are quite reasonable," she smirked.

"I will keep that in mind. In the meantime, you've just reminded me that I haven't given you a retainer yet. I apologize and I'll correct that as soon as we are back to Comox. Is a thousand enough to start?"

"More than enough, but I am grateful. I was trying to think of a way to bring the subject up. My rent is due soon," she smiled shyly.

"Am I your only client at present?"

"Yes, unfortunately. However, I'm hoping that when we turn your home into a showpiece that I can use it in my advertising."

"Of course you can. After all, you've contributed your labour towards it as well."

"Thank you," she smiled genuinely.

It was a little too cool in the evenings to consider using the portable barbeque on the beach, so we settled for heating up a semi-prepared beef stroganoff that I had purchased at the grocery store deli counter. Coleslaw and fresh dinner rolls, along with a bottle of wine, and we were set for our evening meal. We sat beside each other at the galley table, enjoying the meal and each other's company. With some pre-recorded easy-listening music on the little sound system, I was as completely at ease with Charlotte as she was with me.

We finished the meal and I put the dishes into the sink prior to washing up. We sat, enjoying our wine, passing the occasional comment. Without the background music it would have been incredibly quiet. The birds hadn't yet begun their evensong.

"My legs feel like lead," Charlotte announced with a mild grimace.

"Several hours on the boat and our hike are the likely cause of that. Would you like me to give them a massage?"

"Oh, yes please, that sounds wonderful."

I folded up the table and suggested she remove her jeans before I had her lie face down on the cushions.

"Sorry I don't have any warm oil. Maybe next time," I grinned.

She groaned as I began to knead her thighs the way I'd been taught by a female trainer in college. Working steadily with a firm grip and pressure, I moved across to each side from time to time before beginning on her calf muscles. I knew full well which muscles were aching. I'd been there before.

"Is that helping?" I asked after a few minutes. The groans and sighs I heard indicated it was.

"Oh, yeah. That's wonderful, Nolan. I didn't expect that I'd be this sore after just one day."

"You'll get used to it. Pretty soon you won't feel it as much. You're using muscles that you aren't used to using for several hours at a time. I guarantee you'll sleep well tonight."

"I hope I can stay awake long enough to reward you for your kindness," she mumbled.

"Don't worry about it. Just do what feels comfortable for you. I can wait."

I thought she might fall asleep on the bench after allowing herself to completely relax, making my task so much easier. Becoming a little bolder, I moved my hands further up her thigh toward her sex. She was wearing pale rose-coloured bikini panties and I found that a turn-on. I knew how my former girlfriend responded to this and I was curious to see if Charlotte would as well.

 
There is more of this chapter...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.