Chapter 14: Dee's Diary - The Boathouse

DEE'S DIARY

TUESDAY, JUNE 12^th (Continued)

On Saturday, Fred got the old johnboat working in the boathouse down by the little pier, and told us that he'd be taking it out on the lake for several hours. Before he left, however, Brenda said she had something to suggest, and she went into the bedroom and emerged holding two bikinis. She'd purchased them the day before, and since the weather had turned warm, she asked Fred it the two of us could lie on the pier and soak up some sun. I was mortified! I couldn't possibly wear a bikini! My scarred back would look terrible! But Fred actively endorsed the proposition, and that was that. He waited while we changed, and we had to put on a little show for him when the swimsuits were on. Again, I felt big and ungainly next to Brenda's lovely form. She's so beautiful! The top to my bikini barely kept me contained. But Master seemed to spend just as much time ogling me as he did his wife, and that made me blush all the more.

Towels and tanning lotion in hand, we followed him down to the dock, where he got the boat launched and roared off as we waved good-bye. Then we spread our towels on the wooden planks of the dock and took turns rubbing lotion into each other's bodies. Two boatloads of drunken fishermen motored by, then by again, honking and whistling, but I took Brenda's lead and just ignored them. The afternoon turned drowsy, and we both dozed a little, only to be startled rudely awake by the crash of thunder very close by. Neither of us had noticed the skies turn cloudy, and now the heavens opened up and it poured. Grabbing our towels, we fled into the boathouse, but we were both thoroughly soaked, water shimmering and droplets running rapidly down our oiled bodies. I took my towel and dried her the best I could, for the towels were damp, too. The temperature had dropped with the coming of the rain, and I began to shiver. Her own moist towel didn't help much as she tried to pat me dry, so she started rubbing my shoulders rapidly in an attempt to warm me. She was very close.

It was one of those moments you read about in books; one of those "across the room" revelations they try to depict in the movies. Her hands were rubbing me, then they slowly stopped as she looked into my eyes. That "something" was there again; the thing I'd felt in the shower with her on that second day after we met. I'd felt it since. Recently, I'd felt it more often, but I never even considered saying anything about it. I wasn't that kind of girl. Neither was she. Were we? Looking back on it, I don't think any force on earth could have kept our lips apart. It happened slowly, tenderly. After the kiss had gone on and on and on, thunder split the cosmos. The lightning must have been right overhead, but we paid it no heed at all, and the kiss went on. Finally, finally, we parted. We were both breathing hard. Her eyes were unfocused for a moment before they settled onto mine.

"Golly," she said.

I barked a laugh and held her close. "Yeah, golly." We were quiet for a long moment.

I said: "I think I've wanted that to happen since the first time I met you."

And she sighed and said: "Me too."

And I said: "I'm not that kind of girl."

And she trailed her fingernail across my bare skin and said: "Me neither."

And I said: "What are you going to do to me?"

And she said: "Anything I want."

And I blushed and looked into her smiling eyes and said: "Don't tease me."

And for a moment, she got a sort of funny, questioning look, but then she said: "I'm going to make love to you."

And I said: "Okay."

We took a couple of lounge chair cushions off a rack on the wall and put them on the wooden floor of the boathouse, then I stood calmly, my hands at my sides, while she unhooked my bikini straps and peeled the garment off of me. She let me undress her, as well, then we lay down and held each other and kissed some more. Our hands began to roam rather freely, and we both had to stop kissing from time to time to gulp air and moan.

She sort of took charge, naturally, and after awhile, she stopped her French kisses and rested her lips lightly on mine, so that our mouths were always touching. Her left hand was caressing my right breast, rubbing and pressing, stroking and tweaking; and my left hand was doing exactly the same to hers. Her right hand was between my legs, her fingers moving up and down, side to side, round and round my clit; and my right hand was doing exactly the same to her. She would speed up her strokes, and I would speed up mine. She'd slow down, and I would take her cue immediately. The only things she couldn't seem to control were my moans, and she wasn't doing a very good job controlling her own, either.

She suddenly whispered harshly: "Stop! Stop! Stop!" her lips still touching mine, her pleas were breathed into my open mouth. I immediately stopped rubbing her, though she kept up her manipulations of my own love bud. She took a shuddering breath and relaxed just a little. "I was about to cum," she said softly, urgently. "Wait a minute before you start again. And don't let me make you cum yet, either. Tell me before it's too late."

She kept up her ministrations, and I really WAS getting close. I let her keep rubbing me for a few more seconds. "Okay, stop!" I gasped, and for a moment, I thought I'd let her go too far, but I willed the orgasm back into its lair and relaxed a bit. She kissed me lightly.

"Okay, you can start doing me again," she said softly, and I began rubbing little circles around her clit again. She immediately gasped and stiffened against me again. I began rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she arched her body into my hand. She was very, very wet. My whole right hand felt oily and slippery. She started rubbing my clit again, as well, and I instantly told her to stop, which she did. "Me too!" she moaned loudly. "Stop! Stop!" And I paused again. We panted and tried to keep ourselves from coming, using sheer force of will.

This little game kept up for several long minutes. I quickly lost count of how many times we told the other to cease and desist at the last possible instant. More and more often, we found ourselves just touching but not moving, gasping and moaning and whispering.

"I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff that's beginning to crumble," I said softly against her lips. "Oh, Brenda, I'm SO close!" We were down to the point that we'd only give each other a single stroke before stopping. I gave her another little tweak and she shuddered but did not cum.

"Wait for it," she ordered weakly. "Not until I say so!"

I could tell she was about to stroke me again. "Wait! Wait!" I urged, and she paused to give me a few seconds peace. I took a few ragged breaths then grit my teeth. "Okay," I whispered, then gasped loudly as she stroked me once. I arched up and almost didn't make it. I gulp a couple times. "Oooh, that was close," I muttered. "Are you ready?"