Chapter 5

Sunday May 22

Paris and I joined his older brother Mack and Mack’s wife Liz on the sailboat today.

“Mack?” I asked when I met him. “Not Ajax or Agamemnon?”

“Marshall Macallister Bishop Junior. Nice to meet you,” he replied.

Mack and Liz are older - approaching thirty, I think. They just found out that they’re pregnant, so babies are at the forefront of their minds. For instance, once the wind calmed and it was warm enough, I stripped down to a bikini, but Liz went a step further and took her top off, too.

“Is that normal around here?” I asked, unsure if I would seem prudish for keeping my chest covered.

“It’s not uncommon,” she said nonchalantly. “Anyway, this is going to be my last chance to show these puppies off in pristine condition.” She cupped her boobs and pushed them together jokingly. Mack whistled at her.

A moment later I was rubbing sun block on Liz’s back and wondering if Mack shared his family’s peculiar lack of interest in girl-on-girl. I wasn’t going to push it though - Paris and I have had too many setbacks in the sex department. Anyway, I ended up lotioning up Paris’ and Mack’s backs, too, because they were busy turning the cranks and pulling the ropes that made the boat go where it was supposed to. I’ll figure the boat stuff out eventually, but for right now, I’m just trying to stay out of the way.

Sailing is really cool, by the way. You can’t just point it where you want to go - you have to constantly reconfigure the sails for changes in the wind and your path. And you can’t head directly into the wind so sometimes you have to zig-zag a lot. Everyone has to help out to keep the boat running smoothly.

It’s kinda fun learning to move around on a boat. It’s almost like a carnival ride: the floor is usually slanted and shifting underneath you. A simple task like bringing four drinks from below deck can be a real challenge.

When we weren’t trimming the sails and “coming about” and all that, there was a lot of sitting around doing nothing that was surprisingly satisfying. It’s so quiet! You hear the water moving past the hull, but that’s all - no motor or air conditioner or road noise.

I did the “king of the world” thing, standing at the very front of the boat with nothing but ocean in front of me while we bounced on the waves. I also spent plenty of time lying in the sun and drinking beer while listening to music. The reggae was pretty cool but I’m still trying to figure out how to appreciate jazz.

When lounging about got boring, Liz taught me the three knots every sailor should know: the bowline, for when you need a secure loop, the clove hitch for temporarily tying something to a post, and the sheet bend for tying two ropes together. I practiced for at least an hour.

“So what’s the deal with Chloe?” I asked Mack at one point when Paris out of ear shot. “Does she drive everyone crazy, or is it just Paris because they’re twins?”

“That girl...,” Liz said in a gossipy fashion.

“She’s all kinds of fucked up,” Mack explained. “In and out of rehab since she was sixteen. Always pushing everyone’s buttons. She barely got through high school. We all knew that college would never happen. She basically just lives to shock people. Mom used to keep her somewhat in check, but now that she’s gone...”

“She lost her drivers license and now she’s got a chauffeur,” Liz said contemptuously. Liz didn’t grow up with money like the Bishop kids did.

“Daddy’s little girl?” I asked.

“Something like that, I guess,” Mack said.

“Why? What did she do this time?” Liz asked.

“I’d rather not say,” I said. I was worried that Liz and Mack might think me rude for withholding Chloe’s latest infractions, but it didn’t seem to bother them. I haven’t even told Paris about Chloe’s late night visit, and I thought the sex tape incident might be embarrassing to Paris.

We anchored off a tiny island in the late afternoon. There isn’t any sort of actual town, but there is a bar and a dance floor. We’re going to grill some shrimp for dinner and then head ashore for drinking and dancing. I didn’t think to bring a dress on the boat, so Liz is lending me a sarong that I can wear over my swimsuit.

Monday May 23

Finally! Paris finally scratched my itch!

We stayed on the island drinking late into the night. It was a great time. We met a couple from Italy, three women from Israel, and a family of five from Minnesota. Paris was adorable dancing with their twelve year old, Christina. And the two early teen boys, who clearly weren’t used to drinking, were awkwardly perving out at all the girls. Yael and I teased them hard enough that I think they left the party to go jerk themselves off in the woods.

Everyone was talking about being tired when we came back to the boat, so I was worried that I had missed out on intimate time with Paris. And, in fact, when I asked Paris to tuck me in, he just kissed me and pulled my blanket over me. I’m not sure what I expected - the little cabin that they put me in was barely big enough for just me.

Liz and Mack were in the V-berth. Two people could comfortably sleep there, but I bet sex there takes some real creativity. Paris said he was going to sleep up top on the boat’s deck. He doesn’t have his sleep apnea machine with him on the boat, but he said his snoring would keep me up when I suggested we sleep together.

I tried to sleep. Even at anchor, the boat rolls and sways - it’s what I imagine a baby feels like, being rocked to sleep by her mother. Still, it felt wrong to be alone. I wanted to be with my boyfriend. Could I call him my boyfriend? Probably not this early. But I wanted to call him my boyfriend.

A few minutes later I was slinking out of the cabin and onto the deck. I didn’t want to wake Paris if he was asleep, so I didn’t try to get under the blanket with him; I just curled up behind him and put my arm around him. I guess he wasn’t asleep, because without turning back to look at me, he lifted the blanket up for me to join him. I snuggled up closer and wrapped my arm around his bare chest, and he put his hand on my hand.

I thought we were going to just fall asleep like that. Somehow, in shifting positions, my hand came into contact with his penis. It was fully hard underneath his shorts. I tentatively helped myself to a feel and Paris moaned, which I took to be a good sign.

Paris shifted so that he was lying on his back, looking me in the eyes. I pulled his stiffy out through the fly in his boxers and gave it a few loving squeezes. For a minute or two I jerked him off while he moaned softly, never breaking eye contact, but then I climbed on top of him.

“We have to be very quiet,” he said. “Sound caries over water.”

I nodded. And then, moving the crotch of my panties aside, I took him inside of me.

God! I knew I wanted it, but I hadn’t realized how much I had wanted it until I had it. His erection was throbbing inside me even before I started shifting forward and back, pumping it. I whispered a moan as I enjoyed this long overdue intimacy.

“How do you feel this good?” Paris asked in the faintest whisper, sliding his hands under my shirt and touching my back.

“I...,” I started to answer, but the words were lost. I just kept moving above him - slow like the rocking of the boat - comforting his cock with the slippery friction of my vagina.

Paris moved his head curiously to the side, still looking up at my face.

“What are you doing?” I asked lovingly. I knew that I would be too far lost in my ecstasy to speak, soon.

“The moon is behind you. It looks like a halo,” he told me. “I’m going to remember this moment my whole life.”

My pelvic muscles squeezed, foreshadowing the explosion of lust that was about to happen. “I ... I hope so,” I whispered, just in time.

All the tightness in my body sprung loose and change swept through me as the best feeling in the world invaded me in pulsing waves. My face must have flowed through a dozen different expressions as the clockwork of my body unwound. It was a damned lovely orgasm.

When I opened my eyes, Paris was smiling at me. “That was the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

From there I continued sliding against Paris, stroking his cock with my pussy, but my mindset had changed. It still felt awesome, but now I was determined to make Paris feel better than he’d ever felt - as if I could somehow will my body into a new superhuman quantum of sexuality.

I doubt I can take any special credit for it, but something did change for Paris. He gripped my ass tightly with both hands and started thrusting his hips up into me, giving me quite a bumpy ride.

“Faster?” I asked. He screwed his eyes tight with his mouth hanging open and nodded.

So I picked up speed. Instead of a gentle back-and-forth glide, I was well and truly humping him. His breathing was labored, and his face had a look of worried concentration - as if he were piloting a crashing airplane. Then all at once he gasped with great relief. His cock twitched, and my pussy pulsed, welcoming his messy gift.

We set out early for more sailing this morning. Mack let me raise the main sail - which pretty much just meant wrapping a rope around a winch and cranking it while Liz stood next to me making sure I didn’t mess up. That was some serious effort; I need to work on my upper body strength.

The ocean was choppier today. I felt sick for a while, but I didn’t throw up.

We ended up back at the same island, but a different cove, early in the afternoon. Mack and Liz went ashore for a hike. I asked Paris if he was interested in a tropical forest BJ, but he seemed shy about exhibitionism, so we stayed on the boat relaxing instead. I offered to give him a boat BJ instead, but he said he’d rather wait and make love tonight.

It started raining - a light warm rain - and people on one of the boats next to us got naked. “That’s weird,” I said, “they’re all stripping.”

Paris had just found the ukulele that lives on the boat and started playing a simple song. “They’re probably just showering,” he told me. “This way they don’t have to use up the boat’s fresh water store.”

That made sense. I had showered this morning in the boat’s very tiny shower stall, but Paris had cautioned me to be economical with the water.

“Have you got any binoculars?” I asked.

“You’re such a pervert!” Paris teased. “Below deck next to the sun screen.”

“And an incurable voyeur,” I said as I fetched the binoculars.

People on a couple different boats were similarly naked and showering. It wasn’t really that exciting - they were just soaping themselves down, not doing anything sexy, and most of them weren’t especially attractive. Still, there wasn’t much to do and I love spying on people, so that’s what I did.