For Art's Sake Ch. 03

Thanks to all the readers who have put up with the dry, despite all the water involved, introductory chapters. Now with almost half of the cast on board, we can start the juicy parts of the story. As always, all characters are fictional and over eighteen.

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James Wheatley had an excuse for making a pig of himself during Tea. He was hungry. It wasn't hunger as experienced by someone who has skipped lunch, or even dinner, no indeed. His appetite had built over days of missed meals. He was ravenous.

He endeavored to be stealthy as he gobbled slices of cake and chocolate biscuits, but Mary had him under strict observation. She noticed he had an excessive appetite. It confirmed her suspensions he'd been on a diet of bread and water. He must be a criminal of the worst sort.

In between huge bites, he kept his big eyes on her face. They had that look which she'd seen in the eyes of her friend's various suitors ever since they'd come of age. Only one had ever stared at her with that look. He was her friend's brother, Arthur.

Recall that on first sight of James, love didn't come rushing into Mary's heart. It was otherwise for James' first sight of Mary. True, he thought she was an angel at the time, but even now, when she seemed mortal, love-filled his entire being. Her billowy golden-red hair and her cute nose were enough to make love come in. Not to mention her lovely green eyes and pearly white teeth. A muslin frock wrapped the whole package up nicely, even heavenly. All-in-all, she was pretty as a picture. A picture painted by someone other than himself that is.

After Captain Murphy made an introduction of the two ladies present, Mary Carpenter and Mrs. Waters, it became clear to James that he'd made a mistake as to some identities. He was relieved the Captain was no Devil but was slightly disappointed when he found that the Whore of Babylon, went by the name of Mrs. Waters. It sounded so ordinary and didn't do her sensuality justice. Even fully and modestly dressed, Mrs. Waters displayed curves in all the places the W. of B. would.

James and Captain Murphy looked to Mary to be father and son. Though not as wild and bushy as the Captain's, James had a beard as well. It was a youthful beard, more of a patchy lawn than the real deal. It looked as if a cub pirate was trying his best to be like his papa. It lent the youth a sinister aspect as far as Mary was concerned.

It was otherwise for Mrs. Waters, it gave the lad a devil-may-care charm. Add to this the lad's long hair, and the picture of one unbound by the chains of conventions was complete. In her younger days as a dancer, she'd found the type irresistible. So James stirred up passions in both women. For Mary, it was dread, for Mrs. Waters, it was stimulation or even lust.

The four of them sat around a small table in what passed as the dining room of the yacht. There was room for as many as eight persons if none of them were obese and were not actual enemies. One person at either end and three sitting along each long side was the usual way. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, there were now only four at the table, one to an edge.

The conversation was of the most stilted nature. The only beverage was Tea, which has none of the attributes associated with those that come in bottles. It is because they lubricate and make smoother such situations that the bottled varieties are so necessary for social gatherings, even for groups as small as one.

"It's fine weather today," said Mrs. Waters.

"Yes, Ma'am, quite!" replied the Captain wittily.

"No signs of rain in the offing," Mrs. Waters ventured.

"None at all, Ma'am. It is generally clement at this time of year," Captain Murphy informed one and all.

"Fine enough for a swim, I dare say?" Mrs. Waters hazarded in an attempt to draw out the new guest's thoughts.

James was not ready to respond at that moment, having just taken a large bite of cake. This gave the Captain a chance to begin one of his set-pieces, usually saved for unsuccessful dinner parties.

"It was just such a day as this in the year '07, or was it '08? Well, no matter, we were five days out of Singapore when ..." He was getting into the flow when there was a bang against the side of the boat. A rather loud bang.

"What the devil!" he shouted as he sprang out of his seat and disappeared up the companionway. A moment, later they heard him string together the fruitiest collection of oaths ever heard by the non-naval Tea drinkers. It was quite educating for James, but even more so for the two ladies. Even Mrs. Waters, a former chorus girl, heard a few new things and tucked them away in her heart to use when back at home on careless servants.

"Careful with the paint you lubbers!" was one of the least juicy bits.

"That must be the others, Darling," Mrs. Waters said, addressing her Stepdaughter's friend, Mary. "I can't wait to hear the good news," she added excitedly.

For Mary, who was sure the news would not delight the other, silently smiled to herself. She was more concerned with the return of the cad, Arthur, than of the quite unlikely engagement of her friend to the latest of a long list of suitors. And as for Mrs. Waters's use of the endearment, Darling, she didn't return the sentiment one bit.

"If you'll excuse me," Mary said as she rose from the table. She would wait for her friend, Karen, in the small cabin they shared towards the bow.

This left James alone with Mrs. Waters for the time being. He sat across from her, and the way she was looking at him, he thought it possible he had cake crumbs on his map. It made no difference to her when he had thoroughly wiped his face with his fancy napkin, she stared still. But her eyelids were drooping as if she were tired or very relaxed.

"You're a pretty one, aren't you?" she said with a husky voice. Her hands were below the level of the table. James could tell they were busy doing something because her bare upper arms jiggled a little.

He was reaching for the last biscuit when he felt a bare foot pressed against his crotch. The shirt and pants he wore were some of the deckhand's extras. They were bigger than necessary that's for sure, but that had the advantage of allowing room for James to grow. This was fortunate in the case of the pants, for he grew rapidly and hugely from the ministrations of the dainty foot.

Dancing was the thing Mrs. Waters did best when she worked. And dancing is at least partly a matter of footwork, don't you know. Years of dancing had trained her feet for quick steps and slow ones, but she had always preferred the slow steps. She was graceful and smooth with the footwork, which was having a fantastic effect on James. When she brought her other foot into action as reinforcements, James lost the battle against temptation.

Casting caution aside, he undid the pants and opened them up. He wasn't wearing drawers for Tom had none that fit. It was just as well, for they would have been in the way too. It was a matter of seconds before his cock, excuse the word, but it is the only one that will do, was pressed between the soft skin of Mrs. Waters's feet. He was heaven-bound with not a care in the world.

Mr. Bates came in with more cake and Tea. As the gentleman's gentleman of Freddy Chesterfield (Karen's current suitor), he could not be shaken while performing his duties. Many were the times he'd found Mr. Chesterfield busy at self-pleasure when bringing him his morning cup. He'd be beating away while perusing his French postcard collection, and Bates wouldn't bat an eye. Or Freddy would be actively reading one of the novels with the blank brown covers, and it went the same way, professionally.

So it didn't startle Bates to find the two guests in intimate conversation. He poured two cups of Tea and carefully placed them near at hand. He couldn't avoid getting a peep at the young man's member, and a close observer would have noticed a flicker of interest. Then it was gone as if it'd never been. By the way, the head peeked above the table edge; it was clear that the youth was better equipped than his employer. His duty completed; he left as he had entered quietly.

That same bulbous redhead that caught Bates' interest captured Mrs. Waters's attention too. Her half-closed eyes popped wide open when she spotted it. Her toes had failed to reach the sharp end of the spear, and now she saw why. Her feet were too small to span its entire length. Though not trained in classical ballet, her feet had taken the high-arched pointed toes position of Anna Pavlova's. It was still not enough.

It was thrilling for the former chorus girl to have a worthy cock at her feet finally. She put her heart and soles into her footwork. She had never danced so well before, even when she'd starred in 'Girl of the North' the season before she married. Her fingerwork on herself under her long dress and underwear almost spoiled it all. She came dangerously close to reaching the climax before her dance partner.

The cock underfoot was hot as a freshly fired pistol. The barrel was more substantial than any caliber gun Mrs. Waters ever handled before. She knew a thing or two about guns. Before going to New York, she had been performing at rodeos all over the west. She used the sobriquet 'Little Maggie,' and her act was as a female trick-shooter. Even though a youngster, the appellation was meant to be humorous, for certain parts of her anatomy weren't so little. But that is another story, one with cowboys rather than sailors.

The point that needs to be made clear is she was ecstatic she hadn't thrown the youth overboard before she discovered what the young man was packing. It would have been the mistake of a lifetime.

As for James, he was in a kind of hell. Mrs. Waters was the first one to touch his cock other than himself. Is it any wonder he wanted it to last forever? It felt so good not to know where the feet would go next. They had a mind of their own directing them. The hellish aspect was in knowing he would explode any moment, and it would be over.

Closer and closer came the dancer's toes to the spot of greatest pleasure. This was, of course, the jolly old tip. It already expressed the clear liquid that precedes the orgasm proper. It was maddening how the toes approached it, then retreated teasingly.

Mrs. Waters knew what she was doing. She could tell by the young man's face that she was torturing him with pleasure. Bringing him to the edge over and over again was entertaining. Her own need made her bring the teasing to an end. Her toes reached the swollen tip of the cock.

"Oh. Oh. Oh," stuttered James as Mrs. Waters's nimble toes finally reached the slippery knob atop his cock. He'd been aching for the feel of her touch there, but dreading it too. He knew one brush would prove too much for him to control.

When touched, the head erupted with several thick ropes of hot cum. Spasm after spasm shook the youth's frame. The first blast hit the overhead. The second shot halfway there and fell back on top of James' head. All the rest of his spunk ended up on the front of his borrowed shirt.

This, in turn, triggered Mrs. Waters's orgasm. If there had been an audience, no doubt it would've demanded an encore, the finishing flourish was that smashing.

Mrs. Waters's timing proved perfect. She had just finish quaking, shaking and basking in ecstasy, when from the companionway came the sound of many people.

The first to enter the dining space was Arthur, Mrs. Waters's Stepson. He took in the scene in an instant, his Stepmother's flushed cheeked bliss and the youth's cum soaked shirt, gave it all away. She had been sex-mad since arriving in the South of France. She was getting out of hand.

"I see you've been entertaining, Mother. Hello there, I'm Arthur, call me Art," he said, holding out a hand to the unknown youth.

"I'm James Wheatley. Pleased to meet you," James said, standing up awkwardly, trying to cover himself up at the same time. They shook hands firmly.

"I'm delighted to meet you!" Arthur replied as if he meant it. And he did.

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Pappy Bones