F6: Love on the Boat

"Okay, done," she said after a few minutes. "Let's get out of here. Shall we get some dinner?"

"Sure. Anything in particular you want?"

"Italian! I haven't had that in ages."

"Sounds great." Russ grinned, pleased that her choice matched his own. "How about Mama Gina's?"

"Perfect. And it's right down the street from the movies."

"Then let's get started." Russ held the door for her.

"Such a gentleman," she said, and kissed his cheek on the way out. Russ jumped as her hand brushed his crotch. Hoping it wasn't an accident, he followed her to the car.

Dinner at Mama Gina's was delicious, and Russ was pleased that he didn't spill any red sauce on himself. It was the little things, he told himself, that made all the difference and buoyed his confidence. When Melissa would lean forward for another breadstick, revealing more of her cleavage, he savored the view instead of averting his eyes, and could tell she liked it.

During the movie, he took a chance and put his hand on Melissa's knee. When she covered his hand with hers and slid it slightly higher, he was glad the darkness hid his ridiculous grin. The night, he thought, was shaping up splendidly.

In the car on the way back to the marina, she turned on the radio again. Expecting more jazz, Russ was puzzled when a ululating, falsetto voice came out.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's Slim Whitman." She laughed. "Can't help it. Love it when he yodels."

"Really? Can't say I've ever really listened to him much. I'm more of a rock'n'roll kind of guy."

"That's good, too, I like a good beat, but yodeling is really amazing. Takes a lot of practice and breath control."

"No kidding." Russ was nonplussed, but let it go. Everyone had a quirk, and this seemed harmless enough. He sure as hell wasn't going to let Slim Whitman interfere with what he thought was going to happen later.

The marina was quiet once again as they walked down to the slip where the Indian Love Call was tied up. Russ held Melissa's hand to steady her as she came on board. The boat rocked and she stumbled against him. He caught her, one hand landing on the side of her breast.

"Sorry," they said in unison, then laughed.

"Come on down," Russ said, and they went down the ladder and into a small room with cushioned benches around the side.

"Want some coffee?" he asked. "I stocked up on some basics."

"Maybe later." Melissa traced a finger down his jaw. "I had some other plans."

"Yeah, I was just offering." He ran his hand over her bare shoulder. "Just being friendly."

"Let's get more friendly, and more comfortable," Melissa purred. She raised up and kissed him, her lips soft against his.

This time Russ was ready, and responded accordingly. His arms came up around her, molding her lush body against his. Her breasts, full and warm, pressed against his chest while her hips ground against his crotch. He groaned, this time with pleasure, and reciprocated the movement, pleased he had no need to hide his reaction.

"Come on," Melissa said. "I know where we can get more comfortable." She took his hand and led him to a bedroom. Like most rooms on the yacht, it was designed for function more than aesthetics, although some thought had been given to that as well. There was more mahogany wood on the walls, and a couple of matching nightstands on either side of the large, king-size bed.

"I always liked this room," he said. "I stay in the smaller one, though. Don't need this much space."

"Oh, we're going to need lots of space," said Melissa.

She kissed him again, fiercely, then backed away. With a saucy grin, she undid the knot at the waist of her dress, then let it fall.

"Beautiful," Russ breathed, and she was. Her lacy red bra contained the plushest, roundest breasts he'd ever seen. Her nipples pressed against the satiny material and his mouth all but watered at the idea of taking them in his mouth.

His eyes traveled down, over her waist and abdomen to where matching red panties sat low on her body, drawing his gaze to what he knew must be paradise. He moaned at the idea of those long, strong legs wrapped around him. He hoped she'd leave the red heels on.

"Your turn," she said

He was happy to oblige, stripping down to his boxers. "Ta da."

Melissa laughed. "Very nice. One more thing." She stepped over to a stereo set into the wall and hit some buttons.

Russ wilted slightly as Slim Whitman's distinctive yodel came through the speakers.

Before he could comment, Melissa put a finger over his lips, then slid it between them. "I know it's a little unusual," she said, "but I can't help it. The yodeling, it turns me on." She moved her finger back and forth, just a little. "You don't mind, do you, Russ?" She pulled her hand back and traced the lace of her bra with her still-wet finger.

* * * *

"You okay, junior?" Russ asked.

"Wh—what?" Charlie sputtered.

Russ gave a dry chuckle. "You just looked like it was maybe getting a little much for you. Some people do say it's a hell of a yarn." He nodded downward.

Charlie blushed. "No, I'm good."

"All right then."

* * * *

Back on the boat...

"No, no, I don't mind at all." Russ crushed her against him, yearning to feel all of her body against his, not caring about the falsetto tones floating in the air.

He cupped her ass and kneaded the flesh, lifting her so that at last, her legs wrapped around his waist. Laughing, managing not to stumble, they made it to the bed.

Russ unhooked her bra and slid it down, marveling at the sight before him. Melissa cried out in approval as he put his hands and mouth on her breasts, fulfilling another of his many daydreams. They both moved to get rid of their remaining garments.

"Yes, Russ, oh ye-ess!" she called out as he moved to taste her most intimate spot.

Her voice jumped up to a higher register at the end, and Russ was smugly pleased that he'd had such an effect. His tongue darted in and out, around her folds, finding the cluster of nerves that sent shudders through her body.

"Oh! Oh! Russ, now! Please!" Melissa's nails scratched at his shoulders, urging him to come up.

Needing no second urging, Russ crawled up, stretching his body over hers, trailing kisses over her abdomen and once again worshipping her breasts before he positioned himself to slide his cock inside her hot, wet body.

"Oh, god, yes," he said through gritted teeth. It took an effort of will not to come immediately. When he felt he had some control, he moved back and thrust forward again, finding a rhythm to please them both.

Concentrating as he was, Slim Whitman's voice disappeared altogether. Russ' world was small but satisfying: Melissa, her sighs of pleasure, and her slick, velvet body surrounding his.

He could feel his orgasm coming, and knew that nothing would hold it off for much longer. Still, he reveled in feeling Melissa's body tighten around his, knowing her climax was coming, too.

"Russ! Yes, I'm so close! Don't stop! Oh! Oh! Oh-ee-oh-ee-oh-ee-oh-ee-oh!"

Slim Whitman Russ could ignore, but her ululation he could not. He kept moving, as though on autopilot, as her orgasm continued. The physical sensations were incredible: her muscles tightened around his cock and her hips moved frantically while her nails dug into his skin.

Despite that, his orgasm faded. He held himself up on his arms, breathing hard as Melissa came down from her climax.

"Oh, wow. That was amazing." She gave a breathless laugh and pushed a tangle of hair out of her eyes. "You are amazing. Oh, you poor thing."

"What? No, no I'm fine, I just—" Russ stuttered.

"It's okay, sweetie. I understand." Melissa propped up on her elbows and gave him a kiss. "It's my fault."

"No—"

"It is, it's okay. Go on, move back."

Russ did, reluctantly leaving the warmth of her body. She pushed and prodded until Russ lay back on the bed, his erection at half-mast due to surprise and temperature change.

"Now, it's not your fault, really," she said. "Just relax. I know my little fetish, if you will, is kind of out there. But I promise, there are things that balance it out. Just relax."

Melissa slid down his body and took his cock in her mouth. Russ relaxed, tuned out the music, and enjoyed the sensations. Her tongue fluttered around his shaft, her lips tightened and relaxed, and soon he was back to full hardness.

"Melissa..." he said on a sigh.

"It's not over yet," she said, and winked. "Remember, I said it's all about the breath control."

She put her mouth over him again and made a high-pitched, muffled sound. Russ' eyes rolled back in his head; he'd never experienced anything like this before. Melissa did things no woman had before, and he doubted ever would again.

The vibrations were too much for him too last too long, and Russ exploded. His climax was intense enough that he thought he might black out, but he only got as far as gray. When he could think coherently again, Melissa was stretched out next to him on the bed, rubbing him down with a soft towel.

"Wow. Wow."

She laughed softly. "I take it you enjoyed that?"

"Wow."

She laughed again and lay her head on his shoulder. "I am sorry, though. I never know whether to say something beforehand. It's . . . well, it's weird, I know."

"Weird isn't bad. Weird can be good. I thought it was good."

"Did you?" She moved to look at him, her expression anxious. "It's okay, you don't have to lie. Like I said—"

"I'm not lying." Russ covered her hand with his. "Honest to god, you surprised me, but wow, it was all worth it."

"So we can, maybe, do it again sometime?"

"Like now? I might need a minute. It's my first yodel job." They both burst out laughing at that before settling down.

After a few moments of quiet, Melissa asked, "Russ, you said you were studying math, right?"

"Sure, yeah."

Melissa gave him a sideways look. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me. Dad needs help with the accounts and I just don't have the time with everything else. Would you be able to spare some time for that? I'm sure bookkeeping is way below what you do with math, but I'd really appreciate it."

"Yeah, no problem." The idea of spending more time with her was something he couldn't turn down. Also, he could use the money.

"I'll clear it with Dad." She snuggled up. "I have to go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Russ protested her leaving, but she insisted. "It's late already, Mom and Dad will worry. I want Dad in a good mood when I bring up the bookkeeping."

For the rest of the summer, Russ and Melissa were inseparable. He worked in the office on the books, even finding ways for Mr. Hamilton to cut expenses and increase profit.

When they were sure they wouldn't be discovered, or even if they ran a small risk, Melissa played Slim Whitman and they had sex in the back room. Sometimes Russ would put it on himself, grinning when he saw Melissa's reaction and her efforts to get into the back room as quickly as possible.

All was well until they were a bit too reckless. On a hot August day, with college looming for both of them, they were anxious for as much time as they could get. Melissa put the "Closed for lunch" sign out early and turned on the music. Their song was "Indian Love Call;" it couldn't be anything else. They slipped into the back and out of their clothing.

The only thing they had forgotten was to lock the door.

Trevor Hamilton found them. The mood was ruined instantly: he was enraged, they were embarrassed. Russ was ordered to get his things and leave the marina. Melissa protested, but her father stormed out and waited by the Indian Love Call as Russ retrieved his belongings, giving them no chance to say good-bye.

The last thing Russ saw before he trudged away was Melissa's tear-stained face.

* * * *

"Wow." Charlie blinked, drank some beer, blinked again. "So, what happened then?"

Russ shrugged. "I went back to school, she went back to school. I got a job close to school the next summer, interning with a chemical company. She got her MBA, married a guy, had a couple kids."

"Ah, man. That's rough, Russ."

"Yeah, it was." Russ drained his glass. "All right, kid. Time for this old man to head home. Get enough of the yarn?"

Charlie grinned. "I think I could start that sweater, yeah."

Russ settled his tab and shrugged into his coat while Charlie nursed his beer. Then Charlie said, "Hey, Russ, how many times have you told that story?"

"I dunno. Not enough, I guess. Someone always asks. Night, Charlie. Make sure Phil gets home in one piece." Russ grabbed a plastic bag off the counter.

"What's that?" Charlie asked.

Russ grinned. "New Slim Whitman CD. Present for the wife."