Samantha From My Past Pt. 02: The Boat

This story is a fantasy featuring mostly heterosexual female on male sexual encounters, mostly older participants. Any similarities to real persons is unintentional. All characters are of age and consenting. This is a long read, not a quickie. Slow build to, hopefully, a good payoff. Reflects the author's preferences and proclivities. Not for everyone. Enjoy. If not, thanks for giving me a try; there are many other great stories and authors to enjoy here.

Recommended pre-read: Samantha from my past - the bike ---

An afternoon had passed since my unforgettable encounter with Samantha, the still sexy sixty year old from my past. Something like that hadn't happened to me in a long time... sex with a relative stranger. Certainly not since before I was married three decades ago, and nothing since my wife had died these two years past.

It had been a strange and wonderful afternoon. After I'd repaired her bicycle for her, after our hot and steamy session in my garage, and after we'd drunk each others fluids (but not had actual sex), her phone had rung. We had both seen the name that came up: "JEFF - TINDER".

She'd explained to me that she was actually seeing someone at the moment. That shouldn't have been a surprise to me. A man named Jeff that she'd met on a dating app. But although he looked good on screen, and she was attracted to him physically, a few dates proved that he'd turned out to be a lot like her ex-husband Brian. A little full of himself, a little too inattentive to her - until he wanted sex from her. And apparently that sex was uneventful. He could make her cum, but they both had to work at it. In the garage, still fragrant with each others' juices she had said to me: "There's no spark. At least not like we just had." And smiled mischievously at me. "I am not sure where it's going," she had explained. "He really likes my kids. He came with me to Laura's graduation from UW. Even helped pay for her graduation trip to San Diego." She went on to say that he was a little jealous too. Didn't like when she attracted the attention of other men. Sulked a bit when it happened. She hadn't even put his last name in her phone.

You see, Samantha had come up to my summer resort town in central Washington State for a getaway with girl pals. In a day or so, a dozen or so women in their late fifties - and older - were coming to celebrate the sixtieth birthday of one of their group. Most of them were staying at a hotel resort a few miles away. I could actually see it across the lake from my house.

Samantha, and her very sexy body, had triggered something in me. I hadn't had sex with anyone, barely even masturbated, since my wife had passed. And suddenly I'd had a raw and sexually charged experience with a woman from my past. Someone with whom I'd had absolutely no previous sexual interactions with - just one innocently flirtatious incident ten years ago.

And now, it seemed, although she was staying a few miles away for a party weekend with gal pals, that experience was not likely to be repeated. Her "boyfriend" Jeff was also coming up for the weekend to golf with his friends at a nearby course. Not only that, he was actually going to be staying with her in her room. It made me wonder why she'd been so eager to initiate a sexual encounter with me.

Apparently he was ferrying some of her girlfriends up from Seattle and Kent after he finished work on Friday. Being retired for several years now, she'd come up two days early, with her bike on the rack of her car, in order to get some riding in. I'd met her on one of her rides which had led to our surprise encounter. Since Jeff couldn't get away from his Accounting Firm until midafternoon on Friday, he'd offered to bring some of her friends up when he came, and take them home after the end of the weekend.

I remained confused about why she'd initiated a torrid sexual encounter with me despite the fact that her current boyfriend was going to be sharing a bed with her in a couple of days, but she'd made it clear that their relationship - at least to her - was in question. She was a free woman, free to give and share her sexuality with whom she pleased, and didn't feel a strong sense of commitment to him, at least at the moment.

I, for one, didn't feel super excited about inserting myself into a relationship that I didn't understand. I had never been the "other man", even in my roaring twenties when I dated freely, and I wasn't going to start now. Always a tricky situation.

I shared some of these feelings with Samantha before she left me, and she understood, and made it clear that there didn't have to be another time if we didn't want it.

As she rode away waving goodbye to me, I watched her pert butt rotating slightly on her bicycle seat, and thought that her tone indicated that maybe she did in fact want more, and it was up to me to decide if I did. Our tryst had been so fast and unexpected, I hadn't even showed her the inside of my house.

Later that afternoon, after she'd gone, and I'd had a lazy float in my pool, I made myself dinner on the barbecue. I turned down a nice text invitation from the neighbors to come over for a beer. After I'd cleaned up my dinner plates, I sat on my front deck looking at the lake. Sipped a beer in the warm evening air. Shaded from the setting sun behind me. I could see the initial orange glow of the sunset reflected in the resort windows across the lake.

I'd brought out a switch panel that I'd removed from my boat. It sat on the low table in front of my lounge chair. It needed to be cleaned and I had to repair the contacts which looked corroded. The panel included switches that ran my wake trim plate and controlled the various tower and marker lights around the boat. Some of those lights tended to flicker on and off, and after previously checking bulbs, I'd suspected that the switches might be to blame. If this didn't solve the problem, then I was tracing wires and pulling bulb fixtures out of the hull and off the tower, which is always a pain.

The boat was parked on its trailer near my garage. It was older, but had served us well, providing a great vessel to get out on the lake where we would float and soak in the sun, do some wakeboarding, ski and surf. My wife and I both remained good at a variety of board sports even into our mid fifties. I missed it. There was a boat ramp very nearby our house, so it was easy to drop it in to spend a day on the lake, and pick it up afterwards. The boat and I hadn't been out for a while.

I looked at the switch panel in front of me. A few dusty wires spread out from it across the table surface. I had a handful of screwdrivers, sandpaper, wire brushes and spray cans of contact cleaner next to it. Some spare fuses in a plastic container.

My phone was on the table, and I picked it up and set it to play quiet music out of its speaker.

Just as I put it back down, it buzzed. A message notification hovered on the screen. I saw a small round picture next to a name.

Samantha.

We'd not even exchanged phone numbers.

Right. Facebook.

I tapped on the message and then my phone PIN. The message filled the screen.

"hey whats your number"

I stared at the message for a moment, then put the phone back down on the table. I picked up my beer. My cock was still a little tingly from the workout she'd given me. Despite my shower and swim, I could almost smell her scent on me. My wife had not enjoyed oral sex - receiving it that is. Maybe not giving it, either. Not sure. We enjoyed sex but didn't talk about it very much. She was a little inhibited that way. She was self-conscious (unnecessarily) and even though she liked the idea of receiving oral sex from me, she had to be in an extremely uninhibited state to enjoy it. Maybe I wasn't very good at it. Samantha on the other hand had liberally slathered me with her pussy juices. Enjoyed it. I might even have been scraping her with my stubble, yet she had pushed back into my mouth with gusto.

Visions started to play in my head of Samantha's face looking up at me lasciviously, my spewing cock in her mouth; then of her labia spread in front of me, peeking from between her firm ass; her breasts and nipples straining against her tight white riding shirt.

I shook my head to clear it.

Did I want more?

My sore cock moved slightly, and there was a tingle in my loins.

Absolutely.

Did I want more given her circumstances? I leant back and stared up at the blue evening sky. Sipped my beer. Thinking

My life was very uncomplicated. Necessarily so. My local neighbors had started to hint to me that some of the local divorcees in the pickleball club, and some of the neighboring single women (all older of course - I seemed to attract them) had started to show interest in me. I was, after all, a "unicorn": A widower, married for many years, clearly monogamous throughout that time, with some money, retired, with looks that were still holding on to their youth. Neighbors joked that I was a "catch". But I had no interest in complicating my life with a relationship. And until today, I really hadn't had thoughts of another woman. Another partner in my life. The thought of joining a dating app repulsed me. Being alone amongst my friends and family felt OK to me. I didn't feel as empty as I had after my wife had passed, but I also didn't feel like I needed anyone. In my experience, a lot of these older single women that I'd met casually were bringing baggage too. Grumpy ex-husbands still in the picture. Some adult children living at home. Some ex-PARTNERS living at home, in the basement. Sharing a house for economic reasons. Money problems that might be partially solved with a new partner. The local facebook groups I'd been invited to were full of these younger boomers and older GenXers complaining too much. Gossiping. The pickleball club had a lot of those women. Too much time on their hands and too few interests to keep their minds busy.

Sex was a good thing. Sex with Samantha - orally-focused though it had initially been - was a GREAT thing. Having a hot woman throw herself at me was both ego-boosting and extremely exciting.

But sex with a woman who had a partner was asking for trouble that I didn't need.

I leant forward. Set my beer down. Picked up the switch panel and a wire brush. I could ignore my phone for a while.

Later that night, as I laid in bed, I thought about replying to Samantha. I didn't want to "ghost" her, as people said these days.

I reached over for my phone. Bright screen lit up the darkness of my room. The fan turned above the bed stirring the warm air in the bedroom. I tapped to open the messaging app and then found her message. It was the only one I had. I sent her a smiley emoji and... after a moment's hesitation, put my number in.

I set my phone back on the side table and turned to go to sleep.

The buzzing was instant. I reached over and picked up my phone. She wrote "thanks".

I sent her another smiley face, then a sleepy-faced one with "zzzz" next to it.

She sent the same one back and then:

"that was gr8" then "hope you think so too"

Smiley with a question mark.

I thought for a moment.

"it was amazing" I wrote back.

"my shirt has you all over it"

"sorry about that. lost control"

"s ok. I can smell you on it sexy"

Then a dim picture of what looked like her hand holding some kind of canister. "found my water bottle by the road"

I sent a thumbsup emoji. "so you went for a ride after all?"

"just to get my bottle" then she sent: "night night. will call you? lots to say". A sheepish smiley.

I sent a thumbsup and a smile.

My room went quiet. I stared at the ceiling. All I could see was flashes of our sexual encounter. How she looked in her riding outfit. My cock held in her hands. Her nipples through her shirt. Wet explosions. And now, a short text exchange on facebook and uncertainty about what came next. It was a wonderfully strange day.

I closed my eyes. Slept like the dead.

The next day was a quiet one. I didn't hear from Sam, but it was the day that her friends, and her boyfriend, arrived from the city, so I didn't expect to. I was in the garage in the afternoon, putting away tools after reassembling my boat's switch panel, and generally tidying up, when the sink caught my eye. I looked to the floor. I could see a spatter of my drying cum on the floor. Pools and droplets of different sizes that had dried white around the edges. I knew what it was. Thought I'd leave it there for a while. Good memory.

That night was another quiet one. My neighbor Al invited me over for dominoes after dinner, and as usual he cleaned my clock. After a few more beers and some evening chatter, I went back home and turned in early. Late that night I woke up with a raging hardon, having had a crazy dream about Sam. I threw the covers off me, reached into my underwear and freed my shaft. I was rock hard. I couldn't stop thinking about her. I pulled on my shaft and rubbed the underside of my sack, even got some precum flowing, but it wasn't the same. I let go in frustration. She'd clearly got into my head.

I barely got any more sleep.

The day after, I woke up early and went for a bike ride. That morning there were no damsels in distress, although I did take the same route on the wild off-chance that Sam was out again. But I didn't see another rider. After a quick 20 mile roundtrip, I came home, showered and then set to my tasks.

I set about preparing my boat for the summer. I'd already had it in the water once or twice, just to check things over. But in a few weeks I had a group of old friends coming up, and I wanted to get all the lifejackets, safety gear, boards and other accessories out of their storage bins in the garage and installed in the various hatches and lockers on the boat. Plus I had to get the bimini cover up, which was essential for shade on the hot days on the water. Needed to check everything over. Make sure the drainplug was in. Get it gassed up. Etc.

Just after lunch, I was up in the boat wiping down seats with a cleaning cloth under the shade of the bimini, and I heard my phone buzzing in the garage. I hopped down off the boat onto the trailer step, blinking in the bright sun. Then down to the driveway and made my way into the shade of the garage.

My phone was still buzzing on the workbench where I'd left it plugged in to charge. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Heeeyyyy Chris." A moment of recognition.

"Sam! Hey." I could hear happy voices and tinkling of glasses in the background. Some slight wind noise. Sounded like she was outside.

"How are you?" She had a sweet, bubbly tone in her voice. Very friendly.

"I'm great. Even better now."

"That's sweet", her voice quieter on that. "Hey listen, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

"Nope, all good. Just doing chores".

"I'd love to catch up...." Followed by a short pause, "but I'm with the ladies at the moment and we have a question for you. Mr. Local Expert." She laughed lightly.

"OK. What's up?"

"Well, we're in a bit of a bind. We're actually up the lake at the winery... you know the one with the boat dock under the lakeside patio?"

"Uh huh, I know the one."

"Well, we're sup-POSED to be getting picked up by a party barge tour company sort of thing. Supposed to be going on a tour around the lake and getting dropped off at our resort. Anyway. guy just called and he's stuck at his dock with a blown motor. He gave us a couple of alternative companies and none of them are answering their phones."

"Oh crap!" That would suck.

"Yeah, so do you happen to know of a boat company that might be able to pick up like, I guess there's ten of us? No, eleven. And at least get us back to our resort? Or maybe a bus or limo company that could pick us up by road?" She paused. Laughed again. "I mean, it's not a bad thing being trapped at a winery, but we don't want to be here all afternoon. We all have our bathing suits and stuff. We were hoping for a swim out on the lake."

"Gotcha. Yeah. Uhm." I thought for a moment. "How did you get there?"

"The hotel shuttle agreed to bring us. Couple hours ago. But they weren't available to pick us up. Anyway, we had the boat arranged so we thought we were good." She trailed off.

"I can think of a couple of limo companies but they'll be absolutely booked out on a day like this." My mind wandered.

"Yeah the wine guy here already phoned a couple of the wine tour companies who have those little coachy limo things. But none of them are free."

"Yeah". I thought again. "Are you guys on a timeline? Like, I mean, do you need to be back at the resort at a specific time?"

"Well, just by dinner time I guess. Why?"

"Well I tell you what." I looked out at the boat sitting on the driveway. It was already hitched to the pick up so that I could go fill the boat with gas today. "If you give me about thirty minutes, I can come get you in MY boat."

"What?"

"I have a boat that holds about 15 people. I'd have to drop it in the water, park my truck and trailer and then I could come up the lake and get you guys."

"What? Wow! No, I can't make you do that." Then, more quietly: "I didn't see a boat there."

"It was beside the garage. Besides." I paused. "We were preoccupied".

Chuckle. Sounded like she had quickly put her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone.

"No really, I can't make you do that, Chris."

"No, no. It's no problem. I'm already getting it prepped to go out the week after next. It's all ready to go. Needs a top up of gas, but I can make it to you."

She was silent for a moment.

"Wow, well if you're serious, we'd love to take you up on your offer. There's a lot of us here." She giggled. "Some of us are into our cups, if you know what I mean." Then laughed more loudly. More laughing behind her. Ladies listening in.

"All good. No booze on my boat, but I'm happy to take you all." I walked out of the garage and looked along the driveway to the lake. "Lake's nice and calm. Just a bit of a breeze. I'll see you in 30 or so. Text you when I'm close".

"AWESOME! You are a life saver, honey." And hung up.

I stood for a moment, and then turned and closed the garage door. After popping into the house to change into my shorts and a sleeveless tee, I grabbed my flip flops and locked the place up. Before I left I hopped up into the boat and turned the key to check the gas gauge. It showed over a quarter of a tank. That should be plenty.

I drove down to the boat launch and got in line behind a few other boaters. While I waited, I got the trailer straps off the stern and threw them in the back of the truck. Then got back into the air conditioned cab. Local radio station playing some country music. When it was my turn, I backed the boat trailer down the ramp until the boat was floating. Hopped out and unhooked the boat from the bow ratchet strap, then dragged the bowline quickly over to the adjacent floating dock and tied the boat off. Jogged back to the pickup and pulled my rig out of the way to let the next driver back in. Unbelievably there was one boat trailer parking spot left, so I took it and locked up the truck. Made my way down the ramp to where the boat sat bobbing in the slight chop of the busy marina.

As I motored up the lake, I wondered how Sam would be around me. Had she told any of her girlfriends about her quick tryst? Anything about me at all? I had no idea what to expect. It was about a fifteen minute ride up the lake, and I didn't push it. The day was hot, with only a slight breeze at water level, and I enjoyed the soft wind on my face as I rumbled along. There were a handful of boats and seadoos flying about, but not as bad as it would be later this month.

I approached the winery. Slowed the motor. The sun was in my eyes but I could see that the patio was full of people, getting wine tastings and enjoying the food from the bistro. There were no boats at the floating dock below the patio and I slid along side at the end of the dock, tied the stern up, and hung a couple of fenders over the side. I turned the boat off and went forward to tie off the bow to a cleat on the dock. My arrival had caught the attention of a number of guests from the patio, and I could see a few heads turn, but my boat wasn't flashy enough to capture anything more than a passing glance. However a group at one of the tables right at the edge of the patio partially stood up and waved. I couldn't see anything with the sun behind them but I could tell from the cheers and "heyyys" that it was probably Samantha and her friends. Someone with a wide floppy sun hat jogged from the table to my end of the patio and down a few steps to the floating dock. I could see it was Samantha.