. 16

Standard disclaimers.

This is a story about sexual exploration and, open relationships. Open relationships can and do happily exist; but they are not for everyone. If you do not believe it is at all possible for open relationships to exist without damage to any and all involved parties, please do yourself a favor and don't waste your time reading this.

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Also, this story takes place in a world where STDs don't exist and only babies planned for and wanted do—in other words, a fantasy world. Any resemblance to real-life people is purely coincidental.

The Lady grudgingly approved of Yvette McCallum. She had down-to-earth common sense and self-confidence, did not flaunt her obvious wealth and would have been someone to be respected, if not actually liked, even before Natalie had become such a bad influence and set the standards for decency so much lower. Of course, the Lady added tartly, her common sense and decency had been notably absent the day the met, but everyone makes mistakes...

"Your house is beautiful," Gwen said, standing in an open living area that featured two stories of windows overlooking the lake. A deck ran along the front of the house, from which a set of stairs descended to the dock where the McCallums' boat was moored. "What a lovely view."

"It's way too big for two people," Yvette said, "but it does come in handy for family get-togethers and holidays. Funny how we always end up hosting those..."

"And as for the view," Bob McCallum added, "the windows are a double-edge sword. We can see out, but the neighbors can see in, and apparently they are less appreciative of their view than we are of ours." He nodded to the two cottages sitting on either point of the gently arcing inlet, in plain sight of the house that sat in the center of the shallow horseshoe. "We found that out right after we moved in. The folks in the white cottage saw us fooling around out here and couldn't figure out they could just look the other way. Boy, did he get red in the face when he told me—pulled me aside to talk so Yvette wouldn't hear, told me he and his wife could see us in here and that this wasn't a nudist colony and what we were doing was meant for behind closed doors. I told him the door was closed, it was the window that was open, which I don't think helped things. But I mean, hell, how can he expect me not to want to play a little hide the hot dog when you have a beautiful woman like that always walking around naked tempting me?" If the Lady respected Yvette, the Slut really liked Bob. He reminded her of Tim's friend Charlie, but in a good way, if that was even possible. He was out-going, self-confident without being arrogant, and was skilled in being inappropriate in ways that were kind of cute rather than crude.

"You mean conceal the cocktail frank," Yvette retorted with a smile. "And I wasn't trying to tempt you. I just think in my own house clothing should be a choice not a requirement. The Slut chuckled at the woman's good-natured attempt to knock her husband's ego down a peg, but remembered that day on the beach and thought hot dog more appropriate, maybe even sausage. "We both like to have choices when we're here," she continued, pointedly eying Bob, "so to keep peace in the neighborhood and put these up." Yvette lifted a remote from an end table and a row of blinds advanced from left to right across the lower half of the wide expanse of glass. "I can only imagine what they must think is going on in here when we close 'em, but I'm willing to bet it involves Bob making his long-suffering wife do unthinkable things." Another press of the button and the shades reversed direction, again revealing the sparkling water of the lake.

"She lies!" Bob said with a laugh. "There are no unthinkable things in her book! We haven't figured out a good way to add that kind of privacy to the deck, though and since we like to be comfortable outside too we spend a fair amount of time on the boat, which thanks to Tim is able to leave the dock way more than it used to. Speaking of that, we thought we could all go out and enjoy the nice afternoon?"

"Bob stocked the galley fridge, be a shame to let his hard work go to waste," Yvette offered, the fabric of her white 4th of July celebration t-shirt unable to contain the bobbing and swaying going on beneath it, and the faint outline of two large brown circles were visible underneath the shirt as well.

The men led the way down the dock, in a hurry to be underway while their wives trailed behind. "Listen," Yvette said quietly, "I want to apologize for Bob checking you out in there. He's a typical guy with a dirty mind, but sometimes I wish he would be a little more discrete about it. I swear his favorite hobby is mentally undressing women to add to his collection."

"Oh, I didn't notice he had been," Gwen lied. "But really, he's already seen me that way, so there's nothing left for him to imagine. I'm sure he's harmless—I'll be fine, but thank you for thinking of me."

Yvette laughed. "Nothing left to imagine. Honey, you're so cute. And yeah, he's harmless, but still, just let me know if he gets to be too much. You don't mind if I don't leave anything to Tim's imagination, right?"

"Of course not. He's already seen you that way. We're all adults and we all know what we look like without our clothes," Gwen replied with feigned casualness.

She marveled at the cabin cruiser as they stood beside it, at just how big it seemed compared to their own boat. "Tim's already had the tour, including a fair amount of time in the engine compartment," Yvette remarked drily, "but let me show you below decks." She and Gwen descended a short ladder into a small salon complete with galley, not big but certainly roomy enough to seat four for a meal. Two berths lay forward, snug accommodations with a thin bulkhead separating the two bunks. The engine rumbled to life, and they came back up on deck in time to see Tim cast off and hop aboard. "C'mon, the boys can drive. Let's go sit in the sun and catch the breeze." She led the way to a short ladder leading up to an open space over the salon forward of the cockpit, in front of where a bare-chested Bob was at the helm, carefully steering the large craft out of the small inlet at a speed low enough to avoid causing a wake and giving the neighbors something else to complain about.

The women each took a spot on the foam cushions covering the top of the cabin. Yvette wasted no time in reaching for some nearby sunscreen and working it into the skin of her bare legs while Gwen sat and looked about, wondering if and when the woman next to her was going to take off her clothes. She glanced behind her into the cockpit, Bob smiling back, Tim standing beside him, his shirt now gone as well.

Legs taken care of, Yvette took a quick look around to ensure they were now a distance from the little cove and their neighbors, then at Gwen. "You don't mind, right?" she asked quietly, glancing back at Tim.

"No, of course not," Gwen said hurriedly. "I'm sure Tim will behave himself, but if he doesn't please tell me." And you? The Lady asked icily. Will you behave?

Yvette smiled in thanks and casually pulled the t-shirt over her head before pushing her shorts down about her ankles. Gwen could see by the lack of tan lines the McCallums had not been kidding about how they got comfortable out here on the water—of course not, why would they?-- and she watched out of the corner of her eye as oily hands worked the now-exposed skin around a trim chestnut-colored bush before moving up her stomach. Yvette's motions slowed to languidly knead and smooth her ample breasts, making them glisten in the bright sun. "I think you missed a spot," a grinning Bob called out from behind her.

"You always think I missed a spot." She spun the cushion with her bottom to face the cockpit and got to her knees to present her chest to her husband on the other side of the windscreen, hefting her full breasts for his inspection. "Where?"

"Just put some more sunscreen on and rub it in, you'll get it," he told her, still smiling. Yvette sighed and applied another dollop of white cream to the top of each mound, looking down to carefully smooth it over and into the yielding flesh. Her hand made a quick, casual pass through the fluff between her legs as she brought it up to again present her breasts. "Better?"

Gwen had been watching as well, her attention split between the alluring performance and the mesmerizing effect it had on the men. She wondered if Yvette had intended for it to look so erotic; the unsatiated arousal that had started with the photographer's visit and continued to grow made it easy to believe she had.

Bob looked at the man standing next to him. "What do you think? Pretty good?"

Gwen suppressed a giggle as Tim tried to appear as though he had been concentrating on the gauges and not the display. "Uh, yeah, they look great—I mean, it looks like you got 'em covered pretty good."

Apparently satisfied with the response, Yvette lay back on the mat with her feet facing the appreciative men. They had a clear look up the length of her body, over thighs pressed together with a tuft of hair fluttering in the wind where they joined, and past full breasts that now hung to either side of her body. Gwen felt overdressed and decided it was safe to shed her t-shirt and shorts, the Lady conceding that much was acceptable. The Slut urged more, needlessly pointing out the naked woman beside her, but Gwen hesitated. "May I?" she asked, reaching across Yvette for the sunscreen and squeezing the contents of the bottle on to her legs while she pretended to consider her options. Her stomach and arms were next, and then there was no more uncovered flesh to be oiled. She stared out over the bow for a moment, at the brilliant blue water and the green of the shoreline in the distance, imagining two sets of eyes moving back and forth between her practically naked back and the completely naked body beside her. Not much difference between practically and completely, she rationalized, untying the knots holding her top together. It fell to her lap, set aside along with the bikini bottoms that were discarded as well. There was now more skin needing protection, and she quickly worked upward, applying one large splat of fresh lotion to the top of each breast. Not as much room on the shelf as Yvette has, Gwen thought ruefully and began to work the white cream in, her nipples coming to hard points despite the sun's heat. She worked the cream in far longer than necessary, almost to the point where the oily sheen had disappeared, relishing feel her heightened arousal had inflamed, fighting the urge to reach between her legs. The best thing to do now would be just to lie back and let things calm down a bit, regain some self-control... her head next to Yvette's feet, Gwen was certain her erect nipples were too close to the windshield not to go unnoticed by the men behind it.

"I think you missed a spot."

Gwen raised herself on one elbow and looked back over her shoulder at a grinning Bob. It sounded like a challenge, and she never liked to back down from challenges. She sat up and turned to face the grinning man. "Really? Where?"

"It'll be easier to just put some more on," he deadpanned, and she reached for the lotion. Two more creamy dollops were applied and Gwen looked down to concentrate on her efforts, squeezing and massaging her pert breasts, eventually forcing herself stop to at least pretend she wasn't enjoying it so much.

Gwen decided there wasn't enough of them to hold up for inspection and instead thrust her chest towards her audience. "Good?"

"Really good," Tim said with a smile.

"Incredible!" Bob exclaimed.

Gwen lay back, her feet to the cockpit this time. Yvette was on one elbow, watching, a smile on her face. Gwen shyly acknowledged her with a nod and closed her eyes. The Lady took little comfort in the fact that the coaming around their perch as well as its height compared to most of the other boats on the lake meant that her lack of clothing would be difficult for passersby's to see.

Bob soon appeared next to their side, his upper torso visible above the coaming. "You two want something to drink?"

"Wine for me," Yvette answered, not bothering to look up. "Gwen, you want something? Coke, water, wine, beer?"

"Some wine might be nice, thank you—but only if it's no trouble"

He was back at the ladder a short time later, placing two clear plastic cups on the cabin roof. Yvette sat up and reached over to take hers, a forearm casually sliding across Gwen's bare midsection, making her shiver, the woman seeming not to notice. "While you're here, think you can put some lotion on my back?" Yvette rolled on to her stomach without waiting for an answer, giving Gwen a good look at her dangling breasts before they were pressed down into the towel.

Gwen sat up to take her glass out of his way as Bob grabbed for the ladder. She quickly discovered Bob had brought their drinks and left his shorts behind. Sausage, definitely sausage, the Slut thought as his waist and penis cleared the top of the cabin roof. It hung in that undecided state between flaccid and erect, forming a gentle arc over the loose testicles below, the pink flared head forming a cradle over the balls that lay heavy in their sac. No tan lines there, either, Gwen noted. She wondered if Tim was the only one still clothed.

"Guess I can do that." Bob straddled his wife's back, his heavy length laid between her asscheeks like a hot dog in a bun—enough with the damn tubed meat comparisons, the Lady demanded-- his hands at her shoulders. Gwen stayed sitting, stealing glances as he worked. Bob was very thorough, delivering more of a massage than a simple application of lotion, masculine hands kneading her shoulder blades, slowly circling down over the sides of breasts now mashed against the towel, then to the small of her back. Yvette lay with her head on crossed forearms, eyes closed, a contented smile on her face.

Bob's fingers had reached the top of her ass, working just inches from where the head of his cock peered out from between her globes. His length retreated and poked insistently between her mostly-closed thighs as he shifted downward to straddle them, more sunscreen liberally and lovingly applied.

Yvette's eyes fluttered open as one hand, then the other found their way down between her legs. "Down boy," she said while gently squeezing her legs shut against his advances. "We have guests. If you can't keep that dragon of yours under control you'll have to put it away."

"Oh, that's alright," Gwen babbled. "Don't mind us! It's your boat! We're married, too you know!" She quickly decided she was not doing herself any favors and fell silent.

Bob raised himself on all fours, hovering above his wife as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek while his erection slid over the small of her back. "Humblest apologies. It was just trying to get out of the sun and into its nest." He turned his attention to the woman next to him. "Sun's hot. You should get some lotion on your back, too. Don't want that cute little rear end to get all red for the wrong reasons." Gwen's brain went into crisis management mode, quickly evaluating possible responses. Maybe teasing him had taken things too far; he probably thought that had been her signal to let him go for something more, maybe to touch her. That was out of the question, but maybe just her back would be okay--but only if he asked Tim for permission first, not that Tim would allow it—would he? "Let me go take the wheel from your husband so he can make sure a sunburn on that beautiful body of yours doesn't limit his options later," he continued, reducing her crisis level to yellow alert, her mental flailing slowing, the Lady relieved and the Slut guessing what "options" he was referring to. Bob turned and moved to the ladder, his bobbing length passing just inches from her face, close enough that the fat spongy head would poke her squarely between the lips if she bent forward just a little more.

Tim hurried forward, Gwen's curiosity about his clothing answered, his erection proudly leading the way. "Want me to put some on your back?"

She turned over in invitation, spending more time than necessary on hands and knees for the benefit of the man behind the wheel before turning in place to lie down next to Yvette, her earlier concerns of having gone too far with her teasing forgotten. "If you want..."

Tim took his cue from the boat's owner and straddled Gwen's rear end, nestling his cock into her split. She resisted the urge to bring her hips up a little more, to where he could slide in and do whatever he wanted, to shamelessly let him explore one of his options right there in front of the McCallums. A last burst of self-control kept her hips mostly in place, only tilting them enough for his length to saw across her sensitive rosebud as he worked. Tim finally pronounced her finished and reluctantly headed back to the cockpit.

Now properly protected, the women remained on their stomachs, heads on forearms facing each other with eyes closed, the sun, breeze, and arousal making every inch of Gwen's exposed skin tingle sensually.

"You stole my moves," Yvette said softly enough that she couldn't be heard by the men over the loud growl of the diesel.

Gwen's eyes opened in surprise to find a knowing smile on the lips of the other woman. "I, uhh, what do you mean?"

Yvette's look of contentment had not changed. "And here I was worrying that Bob was going to freak you out. I know a cocktease when I see one. Don't worry—he had it coming. HE always has it coming. It's just nice to meet someone else who can deliver it. Someone who appreciates the art of using a man's hard on to knock him off balance."

"I'm sorry," Gwen stammered softly, watching Yvette's face for any sign she might be displeased. "I didn't mean to copy you! I don't normally do things like that—really, I don't!—but both of them seemed to really like what you were doing, and I guess I got caught up in it...so were you doing that... intentionally?"

Yvette laughed. "You don't have to apologize and yes I was doing that on purpose, just like you were. It's good for Bob to have the tables turned him from time to time. You may not have noticed, but he is almost unnaturally gifted in the art of persuasion—I swear he could talk the devil out of his pitchfork. Ever since I've known him he's been able talk me out of my underwear and into his crazy schemes pretty much whenever he wants, especially now that it's just us two and I don't have to worry about the boys seeing or hearing something they shouldn't. So, being a tease lets me pretend I've got some control over my fate. It's fun as hell to get old Mr. Alpha Dog and his trusty sidekick little Bob to sit up and beg for what he's going to get anyways. Having you work him over too doubles the effect!"

"I really shouldn't though," Gwen demurred. "I don't want him to think I'm being mean, or leading him on."

"Don't you worry about that. He started it, and he knows I'm the one he needs to come to when he can't take it any more. But please, keep doing what you're doing—it'll be fun to see how he deals with both me and someone he thinks is a hot piece of ass—sorry for the frank evaluation, but he does think you're very attractive."

Gwen smiled. "I'm flattered he would think so. And I'll try not to copy you any more."

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," Yvette said with a laugh. "Just don't be upset if I end up stealing some of yours. With your looks I'm going to have to work twice as hard to get his attention."

"I don't have any moves, really. Or looks." Gwen quietly protested while the Slut purred in response to Bob's evaluation.

"You're far too modest. But I guess I should get to work, so...." Yvette slowly turned over, Gwen using this as an excuse to raise her head off the towel to watch as the woman beside her again presented her breasts to the sun, She casually brought her right leg out and up to cock it at the knee casually open herself to the men in the cockpit. It was not a lewd display, not enough to appear as though she were presenting herself to be mounted, but rather just enough to broadly hint at the furrow beneath the thatch she now distractedly finger combed. Satisfied, she extended the bent leg to stretch it, then gently dropped it to the towel. "I've always found that you can't go wrong giving 'em a quick peek between your legs," the blonde said, eyes again closed. "Most men—and women, even though a lot of 'em won't admit it—will do whatever it takes to see what they shouldn't be seeing, and that little treasure we all have between our legs is the ultimate prize." Gwen wondered what the men behind the wheel thought, resisting the urge to look back over her shoulder, curious just how hard Tim could get without touching it. Maybe he WAS touching it...