Comfortably Numb Adventures: The Windsurfer – Part 1 - Sex Stories

Comfortably Numb Adventures: The Windsurfer – Part 1

... the stern where I have swim platform. A mass of blonde hair indicated that I was about to rescue a female tourist. “Do you speak English?” I yelled. “Yes,” she replied. One hurdle crossed. No surprise; the world speaks our language, we rarely speak anything but our language. I threw her a floating rope I had prepared and told her to tie it to the board. She was shivering as she made an insecure knot. Skip it , I told myself, it’ll hold. I lowered the swim ladder. She grabbed it and tried to pull herself up without success. I was worried that the boat would hit her as we bounced in the waves. I told her to put her feet in the bottom rung when the bouncing ladder hit a low point in the water and hold on tight. I grabbed under her arms and landed her on the platform like a beached whale. She was crying. I let her recover for a few moments and helped her to crawl into the safe cockpit. She lay still on the floor. “Are you okay?” I asked. “I am tired,” she said with a strong accent that I guessed to be Russian. “You must be cold, take off your wetsuit. Are you OK to do that?” She nodded. I reached back to the swim platform and got my deck shower hose, setting it to warm water. She was now in a bikini and I managed to suppress my usual lecherous thoughts. I handed her the shower, told her to rinse off while I went below to get a towel and some dry clothes. I gave her the towel, pair of shorts and a t-shirt and went back to driving the boat to the anchorage, pretending not to ...

... look at her as she removed her bikini top and then the bottom to dry off and put on the clothes. She had lovely round and firm breasts with small nipples that were pointing up. Breasts are definitely my thing. Her pussy was shaved except for a narrow V of dense hair that proved her to be a natural blonde. Her pussy lips seemed to pout, definitely another weakness of mine. I’m a weak man. She didn’t seem particularly modest, and I’m sure she saw that I was pretending not to look. When she was dressed I turned to her. “My name is Fred, what’s yours?” I asked. “Anya. Thank you for saving me.” “I am very happy to have been there. Go below and warm up. We’ll talk when we are anchored.” The boat had been completely closed up; when spray flies, the hatches are battened down. The motor had warmed the cabin and I thought she’d be okay after a few minutes. She had probably suffered a mild case of hypothermia, but she seemed fully lucid and the shivering had eased. I anchored closer in than I normally would, figuring on having to dinghy in to return Anya to whomever she was with on Kos. When I was happy that Comfortably Numb – I know it doesn’t flow and that nobody native to the Mediterranean rim can pronounce it, but I still like my boat’s name - was secure, I went below to find the girl curled up on a settee with a blanket she had pulled from the shelf over my berth. “Sorry I took blanket, I’m cold,” she said. “Relax. Dr. Fred has just what you need.” I put enough milk for two hot ...