I was a college sophomore with a rare day off from my summer job, so when my girlfriend invited me to join her and her mother on their pontoon boat for the afternoon I eagerly accepted.
Wear your swimsuit, Pamela said, so we can go in the water when we get hot. By "hot," I knew my girlfriend meant "uncomfortably warm," but my horny mind added sexual overtones.
In the nine weeks we'd gone out I failed to get even to first base. My parents, religious zealots, helicoptered over me 24/7 which meant no girlfriends, no dating—not even casually going out. As a result I wasn't sure how to navigate with Pamela. She liked that I never pressured her to slip off her panties. Although that's exactly what I wanted her to do. I just didn't know how to get her to do it.
Pamela and her mother were exiting their car as I pulled into the marina where their boat was docked. Pamela, in cut-offs and sweatshirt, ran over to give me a hug and kiss that, for the first time, included some tongue. Maybe this would be my lucky day! I tried to imagine the swimsuit she had on. With her mother in tow, it probably wouldn't be the one I'd pictured this morning when I masturbated: a sexy bikini that showed off some T & A. Whatever she wore, however, would reveal more skin than I'd seen to date.
We held hands walking back to Pamela's mother whom I'd met once before. A beach dress covered her from neck to ankles. She had a youthful, attractive face. I'd forgotten she stood two inches taller than Pamela.
"Hello, Phillip!" she said. "Nice to see you."
I helped Pamela and her mother haul some coolers and bags of groceries onto the boat. They were having a party that weekend when I'd be working. While they put things away I took in the differences between the two women. Pamela didn't share any features with her mother who was thin, dark skinned and wore her brown hair short. Pamela, milky white skin, let her reddish-brown hair cover her shoulders. I liked that Pamela had some flesh on her bones. Her mother looked no more than ten years older than Pamela, who was twenty.
The boat's size and layout exceeded my expectations, having several sectioned-off compartments—a kitchenette, a sleeping area with air mattress. Even a portable shower. A few scattered lounge chairs lined the boat's stern. I'd imagined something much smaller and less fancy.
With everything stowed, Pamela's mother asked what we wanted to drink and then waved us to sit down.
As I started for the lounge chairs, Pamela steered me to an oversized loveseat in a cozy area next to the kitchenette.
"We'll be more comfy here," she said leaning in for another kiss. Unlike the first one, her playful tongue explored my mouth thoroughly and eventually my cock grew uncomfortable pressed against the confines of my swimsuit and shorts. For the first time in nine weeks, she had me approaching the point of no return. Fortunately she pulled away before I made a mess of things. "Be right back. Going to help mom," she said.
As she walked off, I took a deep breath and imagined her in a bikini with those shapely legs. Giggling came from the kitchen and then Pamela and her mother appeared with drinks and snacks, white wine for the ladies, a beer for me.
They placed the food on a large ottoman in front of the loveseat and sat on either side of me, her mother on my right.
"It's so good to see you, Phillip," her mother said, placing a hand on my thigh. "I'm glad you could come. Pamela tells me how hard you're working this summer."
She put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me toward her, keeping me in a sitting embrace. At first this felt awkward, her mother getting my discomfort at being so close to her dissipated and I was able to relax, even enjoy her perfume. Meanwhile Pamela scooted against my left side and began attacking my earlobe with her tongue. I couldn't believe how aroused that got me.
This whole afternoon was unfolding in a way I hadn't anticipated. Starting with Pamela showing me much more affection. As for her mother, quite frankly she behaved more like an older sister or girlfriend. I sensed a conspiracy brewing.
"You've got a keeper here, Pamela," her mother said, showering my neck with wet kisses. She flicked her tongue against my lips, then withdrew her arm from my shoulder, but kept her hip pressed against mine.
We snacked, drank and engaged in the awkward talk of people who don't know each other that well. The chatter between Pamela and her mother, however, convinced me there was something afloat. Said by someone who until two months ago had never kissed a girl, who hadn't a clue how to get one into bed.
