Oh My!

Maris' Maritime Adventure

Or

Coitus Interruptus

***

Oh my!

The Norse god took my breath away the instant I saw him. If ever a man could be called gorgeous, it was him. Six-four, wide muscular shoulders, narrow waist, ripped arms, strong chin, chiseled cheeks, azure eyes, and wavy ash-blond hair. The skimpy swimming trunks and tight top, emblazoned with "Head Lifeguard" across the front, definitely showed off his physique. I tried not to stare, at least not obviously. I failed.

His deep, resonant voice was an appealing mix of command and good humor as he bantered with the many children gathered in front of him -- for today's voyage they were his crew -- while laying out the plan for activities and the rules for the cruise. Those rules were simple: one, the lifeguards are always right and are to be obeyed; two, no running by the pool; and three, the lifeguards are always right and are to be obeyed. The children, including Susie and Ben, my 9 and 11 year-olds, were rapt and enthralled, eager to get on with the fun.

As the engines rumbled softly below decks, the ship, dubbed The Bay Experience, eased away from the pier. The boat tried to be all things to all people. Its large swimming pool, with all manner of slides and floats, was irresistible to children. Also for them, the excursion promised mock combat, using nerf swords and water guns to reenact the boarding of the CSS Selma during the Battle of Mobile Bay at which Admiral Farragut famously had cried, "Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!" For parents it offered fishing off the stern and sunning on lounge chairs in the bow. Passengers would enjoy gorgeous views during a long, leisurely cruise around the Bay, observing the abundant shore birds and the occasional dolphin and sea turtle.

My maritime adventure was beginning on the second morning of our week-long family vacation. Winter 2013 was especially nasty, and friends who had been to Mobile the year before had suggested it for our annual spring escape. It was warm enough to be a great break from the snow and icy winds and had activities aplenty for the kids. Ted was sold on the golf and fishing, and the shopping, beaches, and restaurants appealed to me. Also, as it wasn't a traditional vacation "hot spot," it was economical enough that we wouldn't have to scrimp, could even splurge on some special treats.

The previous night I'd told myself I didn't really mind that Ted would leave before dawn for his fishing trip, after which he'd golf. However, when I awoke I realized I was annoyed. He had fished early yesterday, too, golfed all afternoon, and after two hours at the 19th Hole, drinking with his new-found buddies, he was tipsy, to put it generously. And exhausted.

Of course I had said I didn't mind that he "postponed," meaning called off, our romantic dinner for two. That I was always accommodating was taken for granted. It was quite disappointing, though, as I'd hoped our vacation would rekindle our flagging love life. I cancelled the sitter and dinner reservations I'd made, and after a decidedly unromantic meal at MacDonald's, Ted left me to look after the kids and crashed. It was hardly the night I'd planned, so I left my new Victoria's Secret negligee in the drawer.

We'd seen The Bay Experience on the way to Mickey D's, checked it out, and the kids had pestered us all through dinner to be allowed to go. It didn't sound fun to me -- I had a quiet day of reading and relaxing at the beach planned -- but when Ben and Susie finished eating quickly and left to go explore, Ted put on his most sincere, persuasive car salesman's charm and twisted my arm. "Aw c'mon, Maris, it's a cruise! It'll be fun. You can sun and read in the bow, just like you would at the beach. The kids will love it. What do you say?" Though I was peeved at his presumption that my plans were less important than his, a cruise didn't sound awful, so I gave in and we stopped at the office kiosk and signed on for the voyage.

At least that morning Ted succeeded in leaving without waking me. When I did, however, the vacation smile on my lips faded quickly when my disappointment at his cancelling our dinner, and my annoyance at having to change my plans while he went ahead with his, came flooding back. Everyone was getting to do what they wanted, except me. Oh well.

I chose to wear the chic mint-green Ann Taylor silk sundress I'd bought just for the trip. It had a flower pattern in blue and white, was light and airy, and would keep me cool. Plus it was a trifle racy, as it hung down only to mid-thigh and the spaghetti shoulder straps didn't allow for a bra. I rather liked that. Though it covered my breasts, it also showed them off, and they are still pert, quite high and firm, even after nursing two babies. We were all supposed to be having fun, and if some men noticed me, if I turned a few heads, it would be a welcome ego boost and I'd enjoy that. One foot was already into the white cotton panties when my pique at having to change my plans to accommodate Ted's resurfaced and my wild side rebelled. Though I'd never dared do it at home, no one in Mobile knew me. Going commando would be doubly exciting. Audacious. Quite fun.

After breakfast the three of us headed for the pier. Ben and his shadow, Susie, were wired and ran ahead, playing tag, making noise, and hopefully amusing, rather than annoying, the numerous seniors out for a quiet morning stroll. The breeze coming off the water was cool, especially when it wafted up under my dress, tickling my trimmed pubic hair. I smiled -- it was titillating. As were the glances I drew from several men who were out and about. It all put a skip in my step.

As we joined other passengers in line to board the ship, I couldn't help but notice the handsome young crewman at the gangplank welcoming us aboard. He was wearing skimpy, tight red swimming trunks and a revealing red muscle tank top, with "Lifeguard" written in white letters. His lovely brown eyes widened a bit when he first saw me, and that was nice. I work hard to stay trim, and, though Ted doesn't seem to notice, I like that other men do. Once aboard, as the kids assembled for instructions, I noted that all the lifeguards were similarly dressed and quite dreamy fellows. Evidently, a crew of eye candy for the parents, obviously expected to be mostly mothers, was part of the cruise package.

As the head lifeguard was entertaining and laying down the law for the horde, I strolled idly, first astern where I noticed the mounted fishing poles were non-functional props. Evidently no fathers took the cruise. I tacked towards the bow, dodging the children now milling madly about the deck. They had been dismissed by the authorities and were rambunctious, each seeming to try to yell louder than the others.

When I scanned for my two, thinking it was my duty to ride herd on them now that they'd been set loose, I noticed several other mothers, no children in tow, making a beeline for the bow. Too late I realized that the numerous lifeguards were going to function like summer camp staff and run continual activities occupying the children. Parental monitoring was not required. Would that I had known. I could be at the beach.

"Hi. I'm Eric." Just as I'd reached poolside, the deep, silky voice from behind stopped me in my tracks.

Eric's smile was winning and I did my best to match it. He was even more gorgeous up close. The head lifeguard continued, "Mrs. Anderson, I presume. Welcome aboard. You'll find some comfy deck chairs in the bow, and hopefully some peace. This ruckus will settle down once we start the activities. If there's anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

Oh my. A few things came to mind... He seemed to be about to leave, and I found I really wanted to keep hearing his voice, so said, "Eric, I'm Maris. No need to be so formal." Implying, I hoped he understood, that I'm an informal type of girl, very approachable. And friendly.

"Okay, Maris it is. Nice to meet you," Eric said, extending his hand. I loved the way my name sounded on his lips. I loved his lips. I wondered if he, too, felt sparks when our hands touched.

He seemed about to depart again, so I ventured, "Are all the lifeguards crew members as well?" I hoped he noticed the brief batting of my eyes and liked my best, alluring smile.

"Well, the skipper pilots the boat, and one crew member only tends the engines, but, yes, we all perform additional duties when docking and casting off."

Enjoying how the deep, rich timbre of his voice resonated inside me, stirring things up, and hoping that I hadn't forgotten how to flirt, I drew a little closer as I asked, "Are they all certified lifeguards?"

"Yes, they've all passed the course." I was delighted that he now seemed in less of a hurry to rush off.

Remembering my amazement at how Susie -- she'll only be 10 next month, for goodness sake! -- had become suddenly shy and coquettish when the handsome young lifeguard had handed her the nerf sword just after we boarded, without thinking I blurted out, "Well, they all seem very attractive." Relieved that at least I hadn't confessed what I was really thinking, "You're an absolute god, Eric!" I nonetheless felt my cheeks growing warm.

Eric smiled coyly, then leaned a little closer and said conspiratorially, "To tell the truth, Maris, we struggle to amuse the girls who come on the cruise, as most of the activities appeal much more to boys. So, we..."

"Ah, I see. That explains your outfits," I teased, smiling whimsically and letting my twinkling eyes follow their instinct and scope out his attire. It was fun how Eric now joined me in blushing.

His chagrin obvious, he stammered, "Well, yes, but we also have special activities for girls."

Biting back the ill-advised rejoinder, "Well, your outfit certainly is working with me," but wanting us to keep talking, I changed the subject. "How long have you been doing this, running the cruise?"

In his eyes I saw relief and gratitude that I'd steered us away from discussing his tight swimming trunks as he said, "Two years as head lifeguard, one year before that. I started just after I graduated from college."

"Well, it must be gratifying to make so many kids so happy." I felt a pang of regret that I'd piloted us to safer seas. The discussion of his revealing uniform had been quite fun, stimulating, and I'd felt a certain electricity between us. Perhaps.

"It is, but I'm really just saving up for grad school."

Oh my. I didn't have to feign sincere interest when I asked, "Oh, what's your field?" This gorgeous man had suddenly become much more interesting. More than just a pretty face. And body.

"I majored in English Lit. First, I'm going to get my teaching certificate..."

"Goodness! You'll certainly obliterate that stereotype!" I exclaimed in delight, unable to keep from interrupting.

Eric laughed -- it was a very nice laugh -- and continued, "Eventually I'd like to, a, er, well..."

As his voice faded, trailed off to nothing, I was so very taken by how this strong, beautiful man had suddenly become self-conscious, even shy. Truly wanting to hear more, I stepped closer yet -- I hoped he liked my perfume as much as I was enjoying his scent -- and said, purposely softly, inviting him to draw nearer, "Eric, please tell me. I'd really like to know."

"Well, what I really want to do is write."

Oh my! An author. I felt, somehow intuitively knew, there was still more he had to say, but was uncomfortable talking about himself. It surely was the older woman's duty to draw him out, I thought. "What type of writing?"

Eric sighed, looked into my eyes, and must have seen something that engendered trust. "I write poetry."

Oh! My! God! And to think I didn't want to come on this cruise. "May I hear one of your poems? Please?" I didn't mean to pry, but poetry is my true love and my request just spilled out.

Just as he began to smile ruefully, to shake his head no, a little squall whipped up from nowhere, and the wind-blown mist of salt water was bracing.

Eric recited:

"And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying."

I've always loved the ocean -- Maris appropriately means "of the sea" in Latin -- and re-memorized Sea-Fever, the John Masefield classic, every single time I went to the shore. When Eric drew his next breath, preparing to continue, I joined in. We instinctively fell into a common cadence, and his eyes found mine as we said,

"I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over."

Had the eyes of long-lost, new-found soul mates not locked so intently, I might have seen him coming.

"No!" I cried in horror as Ben's running stumble into my legs cast me into the pool. I was just able to toss my purse to safety before I hit the water.

"Oh my!" I sputtered in shock as I surfaced. When I jumped up, shivering -- the water was cold but only waist deep -- I was aghast to see that the fabric of my dress had become virtually transparent, had molded tightly to my skin, and that my suddenly erect nipples were clearly visible. I had immediate, deep regrets about not wearing a bra. And panties.

"Ben! How could you?" I wailed, trying to recover my composure. His, "Oops, sorry mom. I tripped..." as he headed for the hills was scant consolation. Mortified, I crossed my arms in front of my chest as I assessed my predicament. I had been talking with, flirting with, finding real connection with, one of the most attractive and interesting men I'd met in maybe forever, and now he couldn't help but see every detail of my breasts through my suddenly diaphanous dress. Worse, whenever I managed to get out of the pool, the silk clinging tightly to my hips, rear, and (shudder!) even my privates, would make it obvious that I had nothing on underneath. Completely panicked, I was futilely looking for somewhere to hide when Eric came to my rescue.

"Oh my God! I'm really sorry, Maris. Here, take my hands." Eric's grip was firm and I shuddered in stunned exhilaration at how he lifted me from the water as if I were a doll. My arms were high over my head as he set me down, and I couldn't help but notice his eyes widen as they locked on my nipples, then roamed south. I shivered, pulled my arms free and clasped one across my chest and the other over my loins, as my face turned deep crimson.

I nearly swooned in gratitude when my hero saved me again. "Quick, Maris. Come with me to the lifeguard's office. We have some extra uniforms there and you can get out of that wet dress." I saw in his face that, though he was definitely enjoying the view -- his eyes kept traversing from my ill-covered breasts downward -- he was also sincerely offering help. Help I desperately needed. I quickly said, "Sure," grabbed my bag and scurried after him across the deck, sighing, ruing how everything that had seemed so promising for innocent flirtatious fun had gone so completely wrong. Oh, Ben, how could you!

Eric led me aft, into a windowless room with the sign, "Lifeguards -- Private," on the door, next to another door marked "Storage." The room was small, garishly lit when Eric snapped on the light, and sparsely furnished with just a large desk, an office chair, a file cabinet, and a chest. There were hooks, some holding towels, along the wall to the right. To the left there was a door to what must be the storage room, and also a large horizontal mirror. So the eye candy could check their look before reporting for duty, I assumed.

"Lucy, who isn't with us on this cruise, sometimes keeps something here. She's smaller than you, but it might fit," Eric said, kneeling as he searched the chest. "Hmm," he said, "I'm not sure if these will work, but you can try them on, and if not, there's this." He stood and drew close. In his hand I saw both Lucy's one-piece bathing suit and bikini, plus a pair of men's swimming trunks and a muscle tank top. The uniform Eric and all the lifeguards were wearing.

"Thanks very much. This is a great help, Eric," I said as he handed them over. I reached out awkwardly, still trying to cover my breasts with one arm. Though his eyes did keep roving, his smile was warm, empathetic, and made me recall the connection we'd felt before.

"I'm truly happy to help," he said. His eyes again furtively scanned my dress -- probably admiring the flower pattern -- as he walked to the door. He said, "I'll see you outside. Hope something fits, Maris."

"Thank you SO much, Eric. You saved my life," I almost gushed, both from relief at finally seeing an end to my predicament, and tickled at how his hungry eyes had gotten bigger each time he looked me over.

When the door closed I went to lock it, but found there wasn't one. Damn. I quickly shimmied out of the wet dress, hung it by the straps on a free hook on the wall, dried myself with an available towel, and started to pull Lucy's one-piece suit over my legs and up my hips.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed as it caught on my ass, and just wouldn't stretch over it, no matter how hard I pulled and squirmed. Lucy must be a stick-figure midget! There was no way I was going to get that suit on, and even if I did, it would be so tight that everything would be revealed. Every single thing. As I worked it off and hung it on the wall, I caught my image in the mirror -- not bad for 31. I stepped closer, hands on hips, shoulders back, checking myself out. All the Pilates was certainly paying off. I noted that my nipples were still erect, maybe from the cold, maybe from the image persisting in my mind of Eric's eyes on them after he lifted me from the pool.

Lucy's bikini top did fit around me, but was so tight that my breasts -- they're not big, but quite decent -- squeezed out the top, and the edges of my areolae were definitely on display. I didn't even try the bottoms. Oh well, at least the men's clothes would fit.

I slid the trunks up my legs. They had no trouble whatsoever getting past my butt. However, though it is pretty substantial -- not flabby mind you, but no certainly no trim, nearly nonexistent French derrière -- even when I tied the drawstring as tight as possible, the trunks slid right back down.

"No! This can't be happening!" I thought as I stepped out of them. The muscle tank top was also an extra-large, and the shoulder straps were so long that the shirt's neckline fell so low that my still erect nipples peeked out above it. I wanted to cry as I slipped it off and looked longingly at Lucy's suit, hoping that it had somehow become a larger size. No such luck. My quick search of the chest revealed no additional wardrobe options.

I was struck by how surreal my situation was, as if I'd entered an alternate reality. One bearing no resemblance whatsoever to five minutes ago, when MILF Maris was happily flirting with a gorgeous, intensely interesting younger man who was flirting back. Now she was wet, stark naked, and hiding out in a room behind an unlocked door. Anyone could just stroll in. Like Eric, perhaps coming to check on me. My shudder at that thought was not entirely unpleasant.

Compounding my plight, my recalcitrant body somehow found the danger of possible total exposure very stimulating. I fought, unsuccessfully, to suppress the fantasy my brain kept conjuring up of Eric walking in. While he was an amazingly appealing, attractive man with whom I felt a real connection, I was stunned to discover that the idea of him seeing me totally nude was very erotic, appealing and arousing at some unconscious level. My naughty nipples got even harder. My brazen breasts tingled, and my pretty pussy throbbed. Oh my!