Nereids Ch. 06

Unfortunately, that brought her face to face with Susan—a very nude Susan. Beth didn't want to get caught staring, so she struggled to keep her gaze at eye level. With an inner snort, she admitted that not getting caught wasn't the same as not looking in the first place. Susan's soft chuckle broke her train of thought.

"What?" Beth asked, suddenly unsure of herself.

"It's okay to look," Susan said. "You don't have to keep your eyes locked on mine." She looked down and waved at her body. "I don't think you're going to see anything out of the ordinary. I have the usual number of curves... most of them in the right places." She grinned, mischievous and sincere at the same time.

Beth laughed, the release of tension almost palpable.

"My curves aren't as nice as yours," Susan continued, "but I'm happy with them. Fortunately, so is Jack."

He's not the only one, Beth thought. Then she saw a sparkle in the other woman's eyes. What was it? Recognition? Anticipation? Beth's mind raced with the possibilities, and she felt her breath catch.

Susan misinterpreted the reaction. "It gets easier the more you do it," she said softly.

Beth swallowed hard and nodded, smiling diffidently.

"Besides, you'll get used to seeing me au naturel, and it won't seem so odd."

"You're not odd at all," Beth said before she realized it.

Susan smiled.

"You look like a perfectly healthy woman," Beth said into the nervous silence.

Susan's eyes flashed.

"Oh, will you quit it!"

She feigned innocence. "Quit what?"

"Quit teasing me. This is hard enough as it is. David's the only one who's seen me like this in a long time."

"Lucky him."

Beth frowned at the teasing note. "I'm serious," she said. "It's not easy to stand here in the buff in front of another woman."

"Why?"

Beth started to answer tartly, but then she realized that Susan was serious. "What do you mean?" she asked instead.

"I mean, why don't you like being nude in front of another woman?"

"I didn't say I didn't like it," Beth corrected, her cheeks heating at the admission. "I said it's not easy."

Susan tilted her head to the side in question.

Beth suddenly felt self-conscious, and she wanted to hide her nakedness with her arms.

"Seriously," Susan said at last, "what's difficult about it?"

"For one thing," Beth said with more candor than she wanted, "I'm nervous about what you think. Okay, maybe you're right... maybe we do look at each other and wonder, 'Is she prettier than I am?'"

Susan surprised her by laughing, bright and genuine.

"What?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Susan said at last, sighing as her laughter trailed off.

"What?" Beth said, a bit testily.

Susan sobered. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met." She gestured at Beth's body. "You're just about perfect, from the top of your head to your painted toenails. From your cute butt to the tips of your nipples."

Beth felt herself blush furiously, certain that the nipples in question had just turned a shade darker as well.

"Are you serious?" Susan asked rhetorically. "Do you honestly worry about being pretty?"

"Well... I..."

"Oh, my," Susan said, with a half-mocking sigh. "Here, come with me."

Confused, Beth followed her down the hallway to the master bathroom. They stood in front of the mirror.

"Look at yourself," Susan said, standing very close—so close that Beth could feel the heat of her body. "You're beautiful," Susan continued, her voice soft and almost seductive.

Beth's eyes were drawn to the mirror. Her gaze wandered to Susan, to the side of her breast, to the swell of her hip.

"I mean it," Susan said. "Look at yourself."

Beth's eyes snapped to her own reflection. She still thought her hips were too wide, but she had to admit that she was fairly happy with the rest of her body. Her breasts had shrunk since she stopped nursing, but they still didn't sag much. Her nipples were bigger than they'd been when she was younger, but they weren't the sand dollar-sized nipples she'd seen on some of the women in David's Playboy magazines.

Her stomach still wasn't as flat as she would have liked, but it was far better than the pooch she'd had after Erin's birth. Even her skin looked healthy, with a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks (and her shoulders and upper chest, which she didn't like as much). The freckles would merge into an even tan as soon as she spent more time in the sun, though.

She gazed at herself for a moment longer, but then looked away, modesty and nervousness conspiring to make her blush.

"It's okay to look at yourself," Susan said softly. "It's okay to think you're pretty. You are. And it's okay to enjoy someone else looking at you."

"It's not that," Beth said suddenly. "I like David looking at me. I'm just not used to enjoying it when a woman looks at me."

Susan smiled. Beth swallowed hard and looked away. Neither of them spoke for several long heartbeats, but Beth could feel the tension between them. It wasn't an awkward tension, though. Instead, it was a nervous tension, full of anticipation.

She desperately wanted to say something about how much Susan meant to her, but the moment passed before she could find the words. Susan must have sensed it too, because she smiled, albeit a bit sadly. "Are you ready to head outside?" she said at last.

Beth spent the next hour trying to keep her imagination from running away with her. Susan had a beautiful body, and her light tan lines drew Beth's eyes like a magnet. But even when she wasn't looking directly, she felt like she was staring. Her closed eyelids seem to contain images of Susan...

...on her back, her breasts flattened by their own weight, bulging to the sides, soft and full.

...on her stomach, the gentle dip of her back leading to the curve of her rear.

...rolling over, her breasts shifting, her legs flashing open for a brief instant.

Beth tried to shake off the images, but she couldn't. She wanted to tell Susan how she felt, but she couldn't do that either. She didn't want to feel the way she did, but she knew not to fight it.

Later that night, after she gave Paul and Erin their baths and put them to bed, she drew a bath for herself, lighting candles as the tub filled with steaming water. She added bath oil, and the flow from the spigot foamed the water. Finally, she eased into the tub, the heat soaking into her body.

She thought about David for a while, his strong hands on her body, working her into a frenzy. She began to caress herself in earnest, one hand on her nipples as the other teased her clit. Her thoughts turned to Susan.

She didn't know exactly how two women had sex, but she imagined that it involved rubbing their pussies together. And it probably had the usual things to do with tongues and fingers. At that, she slid her own finger into her pussy. The heel of her palm rested on her mound and she pressed it against the base of her clit.

She moaned softly as the water sloshed about her, the suds rippling with her motions. She tweaked and tugged her nipples, her other hand busy between her legs. She pushed a second finger into her pussy, savoring the feeling.

She remembered Susan from earlier, lying on her back, a light sheen of cocoa butter making her body shine. Her chestnut pubic hair glistened in the sunlight, and Beth thought she'd been able to see her slit.

She imagined the scene again and wondered if she'd have the nerve to touch another woman's pussy. She'd always been fascinated by breasts, and knew she'd like to suck another woman's nipples. But could she do more? Could she actually go down on another woman?

She stopped asking herself questions as she felt the first twinges of orgasm. It welled up within her and her senses sharpened. She felt every ripple of water, heard the sounds of it lapping gently as she fingered herself, smelled the fragrant scent of the bath oil.

She closed her eyes and arched her back, her fingers thrusting hard between her legs. She stopped tugging her nipples with the other hand and lowered it to her clit. She exploded as soon as she touched it, lightning bolts of pleasure erupting in her brain. The soapy water streamed from her breasts as her back arched. Waves of pleasure assaulted her, battering her senses until she sagged back, the water sloshing around her.

Slowly, slowly she came to her senses. Her chest still heaved with the effort of breathing, the sudsy water in front of her rippling with the effort. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry from panting.

Her body was still tingling and she eased her fingers from her pussy. The pads of her fingertips felt wrinkled, not from the water, but from her own juices. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the tub, still breathing heavily. Then she smiled as she imagined Susan's look of approval.

**

Jack left the ready room after a long night with Commander Featherston and the squadron's Intel Officer. They'd been working on the myriad of details for the next day's strike.

For today's strike, he corrected himself after a glance at his watch. He scrubbed his face with a hand and yawned. Even though he was several decks below, he could hear the sound of flight operations, the distant thump of the steam catapults firing. The carrier was launching the planes of the CAP, the F-4s that constantly guarded the ship.

He thought about stopping by the mess for a cup of coffee, but decided against it. He had a letter from Susan waiting in his cabin, and he planned to climb into his rack and read it before he went to sleep.

He finally reached the cabin and shut the door behind him. He shed his uniform and tried to work the kinks from his muscles. Eventually, he grabbed the unopened letter and climbed into bed.

He lay atop the blanket and gazed at Susan's handwriting, stylish and confident. He held the letter to his nose and inhaled deeply. He didn't know how many hands it had passed through, but he could still smell her on it. She didn't spray her letters with perfume like some of the other wives did, but he could still pick out her scent.

He closed his eyes and held his breath as long as he could. He let it out and breathed in again, the image of Susan in his mind. She was sitting at her dressing table, wearing a loose-fitting blouse, her hair pinned back. She wore a look of concentration as she filled the letter with her life, connecting him to a world he hadn't known for many months.

Eventually, he opened the letter, careful not to tear the envelope. He kept all of her letters, safe in a box in the bottom desk drawer. He kept the boys' letters too, and even pinned some of them to the corkboard behind his desk. The board was nearly full now, with pictures and drawings and mementos from home.

Home, he thought, catching another whiff of Susan as he unfolded the letter.

He read. The boys were happy to be out of school for the summer, and they were starting to get excited about his return. They'd made a calendar and taped it to the refrigerator, crossing off the days, counting down to August 24th.

Susan was doing well, but she missed him. She was keeping busy, though, and told him that Beth had helped her replant the front flowerbeds. The California weather was so dry that she had to water the flowers every day, but she didn't mind. She did it every morning before meeting Beth for their walk.

She also told him that she and Beth had begun sunbathing in the semi-privacy of the Hugheses' backyard. He perked up at that, reading Susan's description of the conversation in Beth's bathroom. Susan didn't tell him everything she shared with Beth, but he could imagine the sexual tension as the two women gazed into the mirror.

Then he got to the part where Susan described Beth's body. It was the first time she'd seen her completely nude, and Jack was eager to know what she looked like. He re-read the passage several times. Then he closed his eyes and let his imagination conjure Beth.

Generous breasts... pink nipples... flat stomach... dark blonde bush... full hips... firm legs...

Susan hadn't used quite those words, but his imagination picked up where her description left off. He was still thinking about Beth when he set the letter on his chest and stripped off his skivvies. He was already hard, and he stroked himself idly.

He imagined having sex with Susan and Beth at the same time, one of them riding him while the other straddled his face. Then he imagined fucking Beth, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy. Several scenes flashed through his imagination, each one wilder than the last.

He stroked himself as he fucked the fantasy women. The tension mounted in his balls, so he slowed his pace. Finally, he stopped altogether. He didn't want to come too soon, after all. His mind wandered.

He used to jokingly complain that he hadn't sown his wild oats before he got married, but that wasn't quite true. He introduced a fair number of women to his wild oats before he met Susan. Still, he didn't want to think of himself as "settled." He might not be the devil-may-care bachelor he'd once been, but he definitely wasn't ready for life as a staid married man.

His thoughts returned to sex with two women, and he found himself thinking about the first time he'd managed it. Although, if he told the absolute truth, he hadn't "managed" it at all—the women had. He'd been eighteen, visiting his parents on a summer vacation before his first year at the Citadel. They were in Turkey, where his father was a liaison for the State Department and a consortium of business interests.

His parents had been busy with official luncheons and diplomatic parties, though. So Jack had been left to his own devices in a country where he didn't speak the language. Fortunately, the only language he really wanted to speak was nautical.

He loved sailing as much as flying—more, perhaps—and some of his best boyhood memories were of sailing with his grandfather in Charleston Harbor. He missed those days, but he refused to dwell on the past. So while his parents were socializing with Turkey's elite, Jack spent all of his time with his father's pride and joy, the Mistral, a New York 40 racing sloop.

Jack loved the sleek boat as much as his father did. It had been designed and built by Nat Herreshoff—the finest yacht designer ever, as far as Jack was concerned—and it was a wooden work of art. And it was Jack's sole companion for the summer.

He wanted to cruise the Aegean Sea, but he couldn't sail the boat by himself, so he recruited the son of another diplomat. Once through the Dardanelles, their first port of call was a popular vacation town. Jack only planned a quick stop for water, diesel, and fresh stores, but he and his friend met three Turkish girls on the quay. They were on holiday from college, and were curious about the two Americans.

Jack had never been shy, and he struck up a conversation. Much to his disappointment, the prettiest girl had been smitten with his friend. The two of them quickly found an excuse to slip off together.

The remaining two girls were cousins, Nesrin and Dilara. They were both plumper than he usually liked, but pretty enough. Nesrin was more his type—curvy, with dark eyes and darker hair—but she barely said a word, while Dilara was the one who spoke English.

He desperately wanted to find a way to get rid of Dilara so he could spend some time alone with Nesrin. He boldly imagined that the international language of love—and his irresistible American charm—would soon have Nesrin swooning for him. But he was a gentleman, and he didn't want to simply abandon Dilara.

So he invited the girls to go sailing on the Mistral. The winds were light enough that he could handle the boat by himself. If not, the girls could belay or haul a line when told.

The older Jack recalled with a dark chuckle that he'd been half hoping Dilara would get seasick and spend her time below. Much to the younger Jack's disappointment, she quickly got her sea legs. But she also pulled off her T-shirt and shorts, revealing a bikini instead of a one-piece bathing suit. Nesrin smiled and followed suit.

Jack stripped off his T-shirt—to impress Nesrin—but Dilara paid more attention to him. He was trying to hide his annoyance when she floored him with a question.

"Do you mind if we take the sun too?" she asked. "Without our... How you say...? Topless?"

He quickly recovered his composure and said, "Be my guest."

The girls casually removed their bikini tops, revealing light olive breasts with dark nipples. Jack grinned in reply to Dilara's challenging look. Unfortunately, he needed to change course before he ran afoul of a fisherman's nets. He reluctantly tore his eyes from the topless girls and concentrated on sailing.

He put the helm down and let the boat fall off, easing the main sheet as he did. A minute later he steadied on the starboard tack with the wind on the quarter. He trimmed the jib to take advantage of the light wind, and began a broad reach to the southwest.

Once he returned to the cockpit, they chatted amiably for almost an hour. Dilara translated for Nesrin, who merely smiled and laughed at his jokes. He enjoyed the attention, and the girls didn't seem to mind his wandering eyes.

When Dilara wanted him to show her how to steer, he gladly obliged. She stood at the wheel and he wrapped his arms around her to help. He bent close, inhaling the scent of soap and warm skin. It was a heady mixture, and he felt his dick harden. Dilara felt it too, and glanced at him playfully.

"Would you like a tour of the cabin?" he asked.

"Does this boat have... uh... beds?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," he said. "Do you want me to show you...?"

"Oh, yes," Dilara said. "That would be fun."

"What about Nesrin?" he asked. He didn't know when he'd changed his mind about which girl he was interested in, but he wasn't willing to simply abandon Nesrin, either.

"Can you give two tours?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up, but he merely nodded. "Sure," he said, "I can do that."

"We would like that very much. We never have an American... tour."

Unfortunately, he couldn't leave the helm while the boat was still under way. Dilara sat back on the coaming and started whispering and giggling with Nesrin, both of them darting glances at the lump of his erection.

Jack shaded his eyes and scanned for someplace sheltered to anchor. The closest place was a rocky island about a mile to the southeast. With a confident grin, he told the girls to hold on and to keep their heads down.

He gauged the wind and the boat's course, sensing a dozen variables at once. The wind was just light enough, he decided. He put the helm over and abruptly gybed the boat. The wind came aft and he kept an eye on the mainsail as the bow swung through the compass.

A sound to port gave him a second's warning, and he made sure the girls were out of harm's way. He unconsciously ducked as the boom swung over his head with a heavy creak. Once he settled the boat onto its new course, he had Dilara hold the wheel. Then he jumped forward to re-trim the jib.

Fifteen minutes later they fetched the island and Jack made for a sheltered cove. He lowered the mainsail and put the helm into the wind. The jib backed and filled, and he went forward to set the anchor. His erection was obvious, but he didn't care, especially since the girls were eyeing it eagerly.

"Well," he said at last, hopping into the cockpit, "are you ready for that tour now?"

They giggled as he led them below, to the captain's stateroom. He normally kept it neat—he kept everything neat when he lived aboard—so he didn't suffer the embarrassment of having to pick up underwear (or worse).