tagIncest/TabooMandy and Me Ch. 22

Mandy and Me Ch. 22


Writer's Note: If you are new to this series, I strongly suggest you begin at Chapter 1, since each chapter builds on the previous, and there might be difficulties understanding the story without the full background. This chapter picks up immediately following the end of chapter 21 and covers the touristy end of their honeymoons and return home. As always, a big tip o' the Stetson to you loyal readers, whose comments and suggestions do much to keep me working on this story. Thank you so very much. Enjoy and please vote.

Literary critics are advised -- I am a retired wood butcher, still learning the art of weaving a story. A special thanks goes to my good friend, Ciguardian, for the lessons he's taught, and for his always insightful comments and suggestions. I could never do this without him.

The Standard Boilerplate Declarations Always Apply - Legal -- All persons engaging in described sexual activity are 18 or older, Advisory -- This is NOT a one-page stroke story. If that's what you want, look elsewhere, and Caution -- There is tobacco use (smoking) in this story. The setting is 1967, and I am writing to reflect those times. If this bothers you, go elsewhere.


Chapter 22 -- The Wind Up and Return

"Let's go surfin', now -- everybody's learnin' how..."

"Are y'all still plannin' on takin' surfin' lessons, after our cruise, this mornin'?" Dad asked, when we rejoined them in the living room of our suite.

"Far as I know, I guess that's what this little lady's wantin' to do," I said, as I hugged Mandy to my side. "She's just dyin' to bust a gut laughin' at me when I fall off o' one o' them surfboards."

"You got that right, Honey," she quipped with a snicker.

The sailing excursion was about ninety minutes long, giving us good views of the Waikiki beach area and Diamond Head from the ocean side. One of the nicest parts of the cruise was that none of us got seasick.

Returning from the cruise shortly after noon, we settled in at the hotel's restaurant for a delicious lunch. Afterward, since we had already dressed in our swim suits so as not to worry about splash and spray during our cruise, we helped Mom and Dad get an umbrella and a couple beach chairs from the hotel's supplies, and get settled on the beach for the afternoon. Then, both Mandy and I headed off for the surfing school, which was a few yards down the beach.

The staff at the school was very cordial, and very thorough in all of their instructions and explanations. Our instructor was a petite blonde girl who was perhaps a little older than either Mandy or me, named Shelly. Before we started the class -- and before we paid Mandy's class fee -- we asked her if it was safe for a pregnant woman to try surfing.

"You're pregnant?" she asked, looking at Mandy in disbelief. "How far along are you?"

"Between two and three months," Mandy answered. "The doctor says I'm due in September. My husband's grandma says it'll be twins, an' they'll come in mid-August, though, an' she ain't never wrong, on a pregnancy, I hear."

"Well, you've scarcely got a baby bump, so lying on the board won't be a problem. If you can master getting to your feet and balancing on the board when you're on the water, you ought to be okay. Just remember -- if you feel like you're about to wipe out -- that's surfer talk for falling off your board -- try to land on your back, rather than doing a belly-flop."

"You're sure I'll be alright?" Mandy asked one last time.

"Look at me," Shelly told her. "I'm a Gidget, just like you -- and I surfed right up until I was six months pregnant!"

"What the heck is a 'Gidget?'" Mandy asked her.

"It's a made-up word," Shelly explained. "It's kind of a cross between 'girl' and 'midget' -- because I'm so short. Like the girl in that movie, Gidget, from a few years ago, that starred Sandra Dee."

"Oh, yeah," Mandy grinned. "I remember that movie, now."

"Like I was saying," Shelly went on, "I surfed right up 'til I was six months pregnant. By that time, I couldn't lay on the board too easily, anymore, and that meant that I couldn't paddle out to get in front of the waves, so my husband had to give me a push. That made surfin' a lot less fun, so I put the board away until after my daughter was born.

"You'll be fine, Mandy. In fact, I want to make sure you have a blast at this, since it's your first time. I'll get one of the other instructors to take the rest of the class out on the water, and the three of us will wander up the beach a couple hundred yards. There's a bottom formation, around two hundred yards out, that tames the surf a bit, along that section of beach. You'll still get some waves to ride, but they won't be so energetic that you'll have a hard time handling them!"

One of the first things Shelly did was have us line up (there were three other beginner students in that class session) and face the ocean. Then she walked down the line behind us and gave each of us a sudden gentle push forward, in the small of our backs. Of course, we naturally tried to keep our balance, and each of us wound up thrusting one foot forward on the sand.

Shelly explained that the human body knows by instinct which leg or foot is its 'dominant' one, and that differs from person to person, though with about seventy percent of the people, it's the left foot that does most of the work in balancing the body, whether walking or standing still. The foot that we all unconsciously put forward when pushed was our dominant foot. Surfers have adopted this fact into their slang, as well. Because seventy percent or more of the people are left-foot dominant, surfing with your left foot closer to the nose of the board is called 'regular foot' surfing. A 'Goofy foot' surfer is part of the thirty percent group, whose right foot and leg are the dominant ones.

Knowing whether we were 'regular' or 'goofy' foot people was important, as that was the foot that needed to be forward on the board for better control and balance, surfing. The movement involved in getting from your belly to one knee and then to your feet. The movement to do that is exactly the same, but it's got different names. You either 'rise', 'raise', or 'pop-up', depending on where in the world you happen to live and surf, or so Shelly told us. The move has to be figured around winding up with that dominant foot out front on the board, without having to swap feet.

Shelly laid a surfboard on the sand in front of us, and we watched as she repeated the two movement-parts involved - going from belly to one knee, and then from one knee to upright on her feet -- several times, until we thought we'd digested the steps pretty well. Then she spent another few minutes repeating those two parts as one smooth and graceful movement.

Following her demonstration, we were each given a surfboard to lay flat on the sand, and then we spent between twenty and thirty minutes under her watchful eye, rehearsing the pop-up over and over until it was getting to be second nature, rather than something we had to think about every part of.

Once Shelly was satisfied that we'd reached that point, 'land school' was over, and we grabbed our boards and headed into the water. Mandy and I had barely gotten our feet wet, when Shelly called us back.

"Mike, Mandy -- you two hold up, a minute," she told us.

"Keone," she called to one of the other instructors, who'd been standing in the background, watching the little class, "Will you take care of these other three? Mandy, here, has a future surfer on board, so we're goin' t' take a walk up the beach to that slot where the surf's not quite so gnarly."

(A Note From Mike: For the non-surfers, out there, 'gnarly' is a term that, when spoken by a surfer, usually means 'rough' or 'difficult'. It comes from 'gnarled', meaning rough, twisted, or bumpy -- like an old, gnarled tree.)

We walked the couple hundred yards up the beach, carrying our surfboards under one arm. I offered to be a gentleman, and carry Mandy's board as well as my own, but she refused.

"I want the whole experience o' this, Baby," she told me flatly, "an' that includes haulin' my own board!"

When we arrived at the section of beach Shelly had picked out for us, we laid our boards on the sand and slipped the ankle of our non-dominant foot through the loop in the end of a 'leash' - a long tether or leash that kept us 'connected' to the back end of the board so we wouldn't get separated from it in a 'wipeout'. Then we headed into the water, with Shelly leading the way.

When we were about waist deep, she had us practice getting onto our boards in the water, and then sitting up on them -- about a third of the way from the rear of the board, with our legs dangling in the water -- and then going from that to a prone position. We practiced that for several minutes, until we had it fairly well mastered. We weren't as graceful at it as Shelly, but we weren't falling off our boards, either.

Then we laid out prone on the boards and -- using an overhand crawl stroke to paddle our boards along -- we followed Shelly out about another fifty or sixty yards and turned around so that our boards were sitting at a slight angle to the beach. Shelly explained that this made it easier to keep an eye out behind us, where the waves were building up, so that we could be ready to turn our boards' noses toward the shore, and paddle out in front of the leading edge of the wave.

The first two rides in, we made in prone position, just getting a feel for the power of the wave and how to stay out in front of it. After each ride, we'd paddle back out and wait for the next decent wave. Shelly kept with us, and described how to judge the waves as they built up out beyond where the three of us waited, and let us know when the 'right' wave was coming.

On our third wave, both Mandy and I made it to one knee, and rode the rest of the way to shore in that position. On the fourth, I did a wipeout, giving Mandy a good laugh because she stayed on her board.

On the fifth wave, both of us finally made it to our feet, and I have to say that the 'rush' of heading toward the shore in front of the wave was like nothing else I'd ever experienced. It wasn't until much later in the day, when we'd finished our class and headed back to lounge next to Mom and Dad (who, unknown to us, had followed us and observed our whole surf excursion, with Dad taking snapshots to record the event) that -- as we were sitting on the beach blanket -- I heard a song come on the radio that a couple teenagers next to us had with them. I eventually found out that it was another tune by that band called The Beach Boys, and I actually bought the record to listen to the song again, but I remember one snatch of it from hearing it on the beach, so soon after the surfing class ended...

"Catch a wave, an' you're sittin' on top o' the world!"

The words captured the feeling I got, riding that first wave standing upright, in a nutshell!

Once Mandy and I had each caught a pair of waves and managed the ride to shore totally on our feet, Shelly took us out another couple hundred yards to where some of the bigger waves began to crest. I had misgiving, at first, and so -- apparently -- did Mandy, judging by the look she flashed at me. As it turned out, these waves weren't that much different than the ones that we'd caught, closer to the shoreline. They simply crested and spilled over farther from the shore, allowing us longer rides. Shelly stayed with us, the whole time, and -- after a half-dozen wave-rides and a brief smoke-break on the sand, with Shelly bumming a smoke from us and relaxing a bit while she explained the next part of our instruction -- we went back out and she taught us how to crouch slightly and use our balance and body-weight to make the surfboard move left or right along the face of the wave.

"There are some stretches of beach -- both here, in the islands, and back on the mainland -- which are pretty much surfers-only," she explained. "The bottom drops a little more rapidly, moving off-shore, so there's not much room for the non-surfers to be swimming and splashing around in shallow water. On a beach like Waikiki, which is almost always full of non-surfers, there's often swimmers in the water who aren't paying attention to how many surfers are on their way in. It's a good thing to know how to steer your board, a little, to avoid running into them. Otherwise, your only real option is to pull a wipeout on purpose -- drop off the board so that you don't hit the swimmers. I'll tell you, that gets old in a hurry, 'cause it can ruin a really good ride!"

Mandy and I spent another hour, riding waves, as we'd paid to rent the pair of surfboards for that long. We thanked Shelly profusely, for her teaching and the additional 'pointers' that she gave us, and for staying with us for the whole time.

"We didn't really have a full schedule of classes, for this afternoon," Shelly smiled. "I can get away with the extra time with you two just by saying that I was looking after a pregnant student. It's always better when no accidents happen, you know!"

"Well, Mandy and I both enjoyed the time, a lot," I told her. "We've got a bit more beach time, scheduled on the trip, so we may be back to rent a pair of boards for an hour or two."

"Well, if you do, look to see if I'm working, and at least stop by and say 'Hello,' please!"

We walked back to the little stand, with her, chatting along the way, since we had to take the boards back, anyway. When we got to the stand, we saw Keone -- the other instructor who'd worked with our little class -- behind the counter, sitting on a beach chair and picking out notes on an old acoustic guitar. The melody line he was working at seemed sort of 'eerie', in what I assumed to be a minor key, and so I asked him about it.

"You play?" he asked me.

"What Texas country boy don't play, at least a little," I laughed.

"He not only plays, he writes love songs, too!" Mandy crowed, giggling. "Or, at least, he wrote one of 'em, for me, this past Valentine's day."

"Sounds a bit like you, Baby," Shelly laughed, and then turned back to us. "Keone's my husband. And, if you lean around behind the counter, you'll see our little girl, Kaya, taking a nap."

We both leaned around and looked at the cute little girl, her half-Polynesian ancestry beautifully visible in her elfin face, and Mandy slipped right into the usual 'making a fuss over the toddler' mode.

I turned and asked Keone what he'd been playing, and he launched into a short explanation about some of the music that had blossomed out of the surfing culture, especially in southern California and there in Hawaii. He played snatches of a handful of tunes, for me and, when I expressed an interest in them, he wrote the tune names and their performers out on a slip of paper and gave it to me.

It didn't happen all at once, or immediately, when we got back home to Gilmer, but I did eventually track down some of the 45-rpm singles of the tunes, at the record shop in Longview, and -- after a bit of effort -- managed to learn how to play a few of the tunes, such as Wipeout and Pipeline. Mandy likes the one by the Torquays, Penetration -- but, if you've followed this story from its beginnings, you'll surely understand why...

As we turned and headed back to Mom and Dad, Mandy and I looked at each other and we both wound up coming out with almost the exact same sentence.

"It's just too bad that Gilmer don't have a beach!"

As I said, after surfing for a little over two hours -- not counting the time spent at 'land school' -- we turned our boards in at the rental booth at the surf school and made our way back up the beach to where we'd left Mom and Dad.

"You two certainly looked like y'all were havin' a blast, ridin' them waves," Mom commented as Mandy and I flopped down on the beach blanket and dug out our cigarettes.

"Was it as much fun as it looked?" Dad asked us.

"More," I told him. "I know that we're supposed t' be usin' our trust monies wisely, but -- after spendin' some time on this beach, an' after surfin' for a couple hours -- I could real easy see spendin' a bit o' that loot on some beach house, somewhere along the Gulf Coast. I'm figurin' that, just about anywhere they've got a tide, there ought t' be a beach with some waves worth ridin'."

The four of us lounged around for a bit, with Mom and Dad asking more questions about our afternoon of surfing. We'd lapsed into a quiet spell for a little, looking out over the ocean off to our right, watching the other surfers, when Mandy sat up and leaned over, kissing me.

"Let's go take another dip, Honey," she suggested. "I've got somethin' I want t' try, that just might be fun."

The fact that she made her suggestion by murmuring into my ear was a good clue that this was going to be either an "I heard about this from Jenny" thing, or one she came up with, on her own, and would wind up being an "I have to tell Jenny about this" thing.

"What's on your mind, Sugar?" I asked.

"C'mon, an' I'll show you. I think you'll like it."

Well, that pretty much cinched it. My wanton little sister-wife was in the mood for a little fooling around.

We got up and waded out into the water until we were about shoulder deep. She turned and plastered herself against me, giving me a passionate kiss as she rubbed her luscious body all over me. Her right hand slid down along my chest, slipped into my swim trunks, and grasped my cock.

I decided that fair was fair, so I reached down, slid my hand into her bikini bottom, and used one finger to stroke back and forth across her clit.

"You've figured out what I was after, Honey," she giggled.

"It didn't take all that much effort, Sugar," I chuckled. "The look in your eyes, an' the tone o' your voice, were pretty much dead giveaways. So, how far are you plannin' on takin' this bit o' foolin' around?"

"I want t' get you hard an' have you fuck me, out here in the water," she explained, flashing me a lust-filled look and pressing her lips to mine as her tongue slithered into my mouth.

"Just how're you plannin' on doin' this, without us gettin' caught?" I asked, when we broke for a breath of air.

"Let's get you good and hard, an' pull the front o' your suit down some, so we can get your cock out. Pick me up, like you did on the plane, an' I'll pull my bottom t' the side so we can get you in me. If somebody sees us, they'll just think we're bobbin' around while we're playin', out here in the water."

"We're playin', alright," I quipped, as she slid my trunks down in the front, finally releasing my growing erection. Once she had me free, she reached down, pulling her bikini bottom to one side of her cleft.

I picked her up and she wrapped her legs around my hips, as she slid onto me.

"That always feels so good, Honey," she murmured, working my cock as deep into her vagina as she could. "Now fuck me, Brother. Fuck your sister's pussy, an' give me a good load o' your cum."

"Is this somethin' else Jenny told you about?" I asked, making short strokes into her.

"No, she didn't say anythin' about this. This'll give me somethin' t' tell her about, when we get back -- that you were fuckin' me, right here off Waikiki Beach, in broad daylight, in front o' everybody!"

"What brought this on, Sugar?"

"I was thinkin' about it, while we were layin' on the beach, Honey. You told me about your mama an' dad goin' skinny dippin' in our lake, an' I got to thinkin' they were likely fuckin' while they were doin' it. I figured we could try it here an', if it works, it'll give us somethin' t' look forward to, when we get back home an' go campin', again."

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