Silver heat - Sex Stories

Silver heat

... was he about to eat me. My ears reddened and my scalp got hot. I tried to regain my aplomb. &#034Well, thank you. And thanks for all this, too,&#034 I said gesturing to the new clothes. &#034No sweat, buddy.&#034 I found the more we were together, the more often he would call me 'buddy'. Back at the marina, he left his car running, tossed the keys to a valet, and we went through his club to the dock, avoiding the gate and guard. I could not believe the size and luxury of his 'little' sloop. He guided me on board then pointed. &#034Stand there by that davit, would you? When I yell from the bow toss the line ashore, okay?&#034 &#034Okay, can do.&#034 After a minute his voice came from up front. &#034Cast off, buddy!&#034 That done, he came to me and guided me, one hand lightly on the small of my back. &#034This,&#034 he instructed, &#034is the cockpit.&#034 I could not quite tell if there was a touch of humor in his voice as he pronounced the name of the place from which the boat is steered. He sat behind the wheel, bade me sit next to him and fired up the engines with a roar. He began to guide us out of the channel, he standing as he manned the helm and I sitting beside him. My face was on a level with his crotch, only about one foot away and I could not help but notice that he filled out the front of his white shorts quite nicely. My own equipment stirred slightly and I silently cursed at 'the monster' to behave, as we passed the huge water crib marking the end of the ...

... channel, he made an adjustment in direction, then sat and slid over, taking one of my hands and putting it on the helm. &#034Here, you take over,&#034 Lance said, natural as can be. &#034Uh. . . er. . . Wait a second. I . . . er. . . I can't drive a boat. I don't know what I am doing. I'll wreck us!&#034 &#034Neal, take it easy. You see anything out here to run into? Just put your hands on the wheel and, see that? That is the compass. Right now it says our course is 105 just keep your hands on the helm, that's sailing talk for the steering wheel, and try to keep the needle pointing to 105. Got it? I am going below to get us some snacks and drinks, I'll be back in a few minutes, remember, one zero five.&#034 And with that meager lesson, he left me and went below. He was gone probably no longer than ten minutes, but in that time I learned that the mistake I most often made was over-steering, for in the light breeze and minor swells, and at slow speeds, it took very little effort to keep the large vessel on course. Standing there in my new, expensive sailing outfit, the wind ruffling my flowing blond hair, I felt urbane and sophisticated, and a little powerful. Lance returned with a tray on which there were a variety of goodies, including my first taste of caviar, (very fishy and very salty) a good soft Camembert, some small slices of imported rye, and the best little ultra thin slices of some sort of ham I could not identify, but loved the taste of. We drank champagne with the vittles ...