After a leisurely lunch he hauled up
the anchor while I tidied the leftovers and the galley area. Soon he had the
sail up and again we were skimming along the water. I sat back and
intermittently watched him, the shore and the water through my sunglasses.
Toward evening we sailed back toward Olympia and the marina, docked there at
dusk and ate at the Budd Bay Café.
After dinner we went back to the
boat and anchored out in the Inlet. It was a warm cloudy evening. He set up
pads in the stern for us to lie on and brought out heavy wool army blankets
except they were gray in color, not olive drab.
He set me down on his improvised nest but I got up and went to the little sink in the galley and wet a hand towel, took off my pants and wiped up my pubic area and re-wet the wash cloth to wash his. I laid him down on the blanket, unbuckled and unzipped his pants, pulled them and his underwear down and washed it all up.
I then stimulated him orally until his penis was rigid and quivered in delight to of the swirl of my tongue. I7 was circumcised, average 5 inches with a bent to the left, his pubic hair bushy. I’d trim it later.
I looked up at the shore lights of Olympia,
the Governor Hotel, the illuminated Capitol dome, took out a condom and rolled
I had him pull off his shirt, lay on
his back, pulled a blanket over us, squatted over him and guided his penis in
with my left hand while steadying myself with the right against the boat’s
rocking by gripping the railing.
Once he was snuggled in I looked
back at the marina restaurant where we’d just eaten and rode my captain, the
boat rocking gently to and fro to the lapping sound of the water.
The earlier romp was fast and
furious but not intense. With my enlarged breast in his face on their first
alien test run, the lights in the distance and my rocking the boat I
experienced an intense teased orgasm. Sated I rolled off and let him finish on
top without my "Now Now" yelp.
Once parted, we rolled on our backs
under the blanket and stared at the night sky. The stars shown but the lights
of Olympia twinkled more. The lap, lap, of waves against the boat soothed. We
talked for the first time about ourselves, not about family but he did say his
wife left him for another; they had one child, the son attended Santa Clara
University and he was pleased he met me there.
He knew I didn’t like smoke but asked if it was okay if he lit his pipe. With my consent he retrieved a little leather bag. Inside was a pipe, a tobacco pouch, Zippo lighter and little scraper. I thought of Dad, his dragon symbol Zippo lighter, how he could flip it open and light the wick in one twist of his hand, bring it to his cigarette, light up and close and re-pocket it in another sleight of hand movement.
As William went about preparing his
pipe it was evident he was going through a different ritual. With the little
scraper he scoured the pipe’s bowl, tapped out residual ash, opened and pinched
out tobacco from its pouch, tamped it in the bowl with his thumb and then
admired his handiwork.