The Crew Pt 07

Author's Note: More than anything else, this part of the story is about friends coming into their sexual awakenings. And other decisions and discoveries. And being naked and nakedly honest. Yes, in a general way, I have an idea as to where this is probably going, but the details haven't emerged in my own mind until I start to write. Your comments are more than welcome, as are suggestions, But know, this story is pretty much writing itself as I go along. It's a slow burn. The world, its places, and all the characters are fictitious. Everyone's over eighteen. Most everyone's nude as much as possible, including me. So, unless you're reading at the office or while on public transportation, why not strip off and join us? Enjoy!

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The sun was already high into late morning when I woke up on Sunday. I was alone in the hammock and I could hear Pete and Marcie and Scooter talking inside. I rolled out and groggily trundled into the house, into the kitchen, hoping to find coffee left. I was in luck. Sort of. Marcie poured and handed me half a cup, the last of the pot. "I'll brew some more in a minute," she said. Her eyes immediately dropped to my raging morning manhood sticking up. She then turned her gaze on Pete with his happily hanging five inches.

"Mmm. Sometime I'd like to see the two of these up at the same time," she mused. "A side by side comparison. Nothing kinky, mind you. Just to satisfy my curiosity."

"So..." Pete asked wryly... "a purely scientific interest?"

"Exactly!" she answered.

Scooter didn't say anything, which surprised me. She glanced at me, looked down at my erection with a bare hint of a smile, then her face transitioned to blank. Distracted. She took her coffee and walked out onto the porch. I wasn't awake enough yet to wonder too hard. I drained my cup and put it down, looking longingly at the coffee maker. It was just beginning to brew.

I sighed and laid claim to the bathroom. In the shower, I washed up first, then turned my attention to my cock. I didn't intend to linger, but did let my mind wander as I enjoyed the slow easy strokes. Just as I started to feel the tingling build between my balls and my asshole, the bathroom door opened and closed.

"It's me," Marcie said. "I tried to wait but I desperately need to pee." She dropped immediately onto the toilet, letting go a stream. "Sorry...but not really." She just sat there watching intently. I looked at her there looking back at me, my fingers wrapped around my cock. "Carry on..." she said.

"OK," I thought. "Maybe..." I stroked myself. Haltingly. Once. Twice. I pulled back on the skin of my shaft with one hand, tightly retracting what was left of my foreskin and leaving another three inches exposed, as well as my almost painfully engorged glans. I hesitated again, shooting a glance in her direction. I froze. I wasn't sure how much detail she could see through the steamy glass of the shower door.

"You know," she said matter of factly as she wiped herself, "I think you're a little longer than Petey. You curve up a little more too. That's nice. And when you're crazy hard, like now, your head is a lot bigger. Like the top of a mushroom. But the base of Pete's cock looks quite a bit thicker hard." She paused. Thinking. "Some day, when I decide I'm ready, I'd like to find out how different each of you might feel inside of me. I already told Petey. And Laurel. You're going to be my firsts."

My dick literally jumped at that. Growing harder yet. I sucked in a breath. "You're crazy, you know that?" I said, tentatively soaping my hands.

"Mmmm hmmm..." she hummed, not getting up. Her own hand was back between her legs, moving slightly. "Don't be shy...I've seen you cum before..." she whispered. "...and I thought I'd return the favor. Mmmmmmmm. I...hunnh...I interrupted you and I thought this would maybe help. Nnnnggggg..." Her spine arched backward, thrusting her tits out. Those adorable nipples I find so distracting were standing up firm and displaying their dimpled tips. "I won't...huuuu...be long," she whispered again. "Cum with me...aaahhh. Please...huh. Mmmm. It's OK. Just something...uuh...uuh...something between...oh...good friends. Hmmmmm. Nnnngggg."

I started stroking again in earnest. My brain switched off. I was too far gone to even want to want to stop. We watched each other jerking off. Neither one of us looking away. I kept my eyes on hers as we both began to lose track of our breathing. One of her hands slid up her body, over a breast. Her thumb and finger closed on nipple and squeezed. She spasmed. My body jerked, my abs contracting, and I splattered the glass and the wall.

A tiny smile crossed her lips and she kept her eyes on mine while a rapid series of shudders pulsed through her body. She doubled almost in half. "AAAAaaaannnnnnnggggghhhhhh..." Her knees clamped together tightly. I don't know how long we looked at each other before our breathing steadied, but finally her eyes broke contact with mine, drifting south to my softening member. "Thank you. That was reeaaalllyyy nice..." she softly said as she rose, then left, closing the door behind her.

I rinsed down the glass, the wall, and myself. I stood for a while and let the water pound me. I don't really remember turning off the water. Or even using a towell. Shortly though, dry enough to not drip on the rugs, I wandered out and into the kitchen, got more coffee, and headed outside. Pete was on the deck, nursing a cup of his own and packing a bowl. I joined him.

"Sorry about that," he said with a chuckle, pointing his thumb back toward the house. "I tried to stop her. I swear. But Scoot kept egging her on. And she really did need to pee." He lit up, took a draw off the pipe and handed it off to me. Lost in thought, I stared at it for almost a minute, processing, before it dawned on me to respond.

"Oh...sorry. No problem. It's cool," I told him, taking a draw myself and handing it back. "But what about you? Are you cool with...you know...the way she..."

"Hey, no worries. I'm more than cool. You should know that. Marcie and I are just friends. And not like Karla's "friend zone" friends. That's bullshit. Marcie's a friend friend. Family. Always has been. Yeah...we're close friends who...well...play. And she listened and helped me talk through the Karla crap and all. But we're not a thing." He took another deep pull on the pipe. The mellow visibly settled over his body. He laughed. "Marcie is Marcie, dude. She always has been. Sure. Lately, we play. But neither one of us wants to be anything more...complicated. If she wants to play with you too, I'm solid." He fell silent briefly. His eyes seemed to wander...searching. Puzzling something out. Coming to rest on some point in the far distance. "To tell you the truth, I'm thinking about asking Kelly out. I can't get her out of my mind. She's a serious cutie."

"So? Do it," I said. " You could even invite her out the quarry if you want. I think she'd fit right in."

"I'm sure," he agreed. "That's not such a bad idea. Start out slow. Ease into asking her out for a one on one. You know? I mean Scooter's already got her contact numbers pinned to the bulletin board. At Dean's and at the store."

I relit the pipe and hit it. I was enjoying talking with Pete like this. We were tight, but it had been a bit. "Yeah," I mused, "I guess I get it. Kelly seems sweet. And for me, I get it. I mean, I get that Marcie's Marcie. And Scoot confuses me sometimes but Scoot's Scoot too. But she's my cousin, so I'm still a little weirded out by some of the stuff that's been happening, but..."

"Don't overthink it, dude," he said. "Scoot's Scoot but right now she's a lot like Marcie too. More than you realize. She's...like...going through some stuff. Figuring stuff out. Kinda discovering who she is or something. I don't get it either. I just love her and give her space to do her. You guys are close. I don't think that's ever gonna change. And I don't think you'd ever hurt each other."

"You're probably right. But still...I...we...I mean...I'd never really got so hot and heavy with anybody before that night at the quarry last month. The six of us...after that gig south of Jackson. It's like something shifted."

"It's strange that you say that..." He looked off to the distance again. Pondering. "It's almost like somebody flipped a switch or something. Like this part of me woke up. Like...well...I don't really talk about this kind of stuff with anybody but you. And the guys at school are always bragging about what they've done with this or that girl...but I haven't. Not like with Karla...and then lately with Marcie. It's not like I haven't dated or kissed or played. You know? But this has been different. And all of a sudden. And Scooter's feeling a lot the same way I think. And so are you."

"I think I know what you mean," I told him. "But before Bobbi and I...I'd never...and then Scoot...and then Marcie...I don't know..."

"Like I said, dude. Don't overthink it. It's been a crazy month."

We passed the bowl back and forth a couple more times. Watched the boats on the river. Talked about getting together with Izzy and Frank and breaking open the Greyhawk Wars. Suddenly, there was loud whoop of laughter from down by the river. We both looked. Scooter and Marcie were out on the end of the dock. Talking and laughing and looking back up toward us.

"What do you think that's about?" I asked.

"If I had to guess, I'd say they're probably discussing dicks," he said. "They both seem a little obsessed. They were talking about yours and mine in the kitchen again just now. How long. How thick. And on the way down there, Scoot said if they were gonna compare side by sides, they needed to figure out some way to get Sal and Oscar involved. I think they've both been dreaming about Oscar. It's crazy. They're crazy."

"I know, right?" I nodded. "I told Marcie that this morning. She just smiled. I think she likes crazy. And it's not like they've never seen a dick before. We all grew up around each other in all over skin."

"You gotta admit though, dude, that guy is massive. They can't stop talking about him."

"I guess it makes sense," I said. "He seems like a great guy and all. But I don't think I've ever seen anything that big...on a human being. Maybe out at the farm..."

"Yeah, on Brody or Bull..." he cut in, cracking himself up. Being around the farm all our lives, we had all seen Brody and Bull in action countless times. They're shameless. Bull is an actual bull. A Guernsey. I raised him from a calf. 1100 lbs and very well endowed. Brody's my mother's Palomino stallion, just over fifteen hands high (that's five feet at the withers). 1230 lbs. And he's hung like a...well...you know.

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It was just about noon when Scooter and Marcie joined us on the deck. They continued teasing us with their "scientific" discussion of dicks as they helped themselves to Pete's herb. Then they got hungry. Then we got hungry. None of us had done breakfast yet. We went in and checked the fridge. It was bleak.

"Nugent's," Scoot stated, definitively.

"Steak and scrambled eggs," Pete added, "with oyster mushrooms."

We all quickly grabbed what we needed and stuffed it into the same oversized cloth shopping bag that Kelly had stashed our clothes in the night before. Boat traffic was fairly heavy, but we still rode most of the way in the nude. Our river. Our rules. Nobody seemed to mind. Just before the marina came into view, we pulled over toward shore. We idled the engine and finally got presentably dressed. Sort of. You can tie up at Nugent's pier below the deck if there's room, or along the marina's protective breakwater wall nearby, if you don't mind walking. If you eat outside on the deck, beachwear and such is fine.

Pete and I each pulled on cargo shorts. Nice ones the girls had insisted on choosing. Scooter then dug around in the bag and came up with two really unique white stone and shell necklaces she had made in an art class at school. She fastened one around my neck. Marcie did Pete. They looked us over. Fluffed and ruffled our hair.

"There," Scooter said. "Now you don't look like you just climbed out of bed...or a hammock. Still cajzh, but almost nakedly classy. I like the white shells against your tans too. Mmmmm."

"Yeah, mmmmmm" Marcie teased. "Sorta sexy surf bum chic." Pete rolled his eyes at her and sighed.

Marcie and Scoot got a bit more creative, opting to tie on these matching "wrap" things around their waists. Well...their hips. Well...their pussies and asses were covered. Mostly. Each had a generous part one butt cheek and the side of one leg completely exposed all the way to the knot, tied low, that held the thing together. I could not for the life of me understand how the nearly but not quite sheer fabric, what there was of it, stayed in place. I suspected sorcery.

Deck rules at Nugent's allowed for Pete and I to go shirtless. We did. Marcie and Scoot came as close as they could. Each wore a miniscule bikini top that consisted of strings and a pair of three by three inch triangles of fabric that covered their nipples and areolae. If they didn't suddenly move. Marcie's was white. Scooter's green. All other real estate north of the flora print haze of a wrap down below was open for viewing. And noticably absent of tan lines.

Their fiendish plan worked like a charm. Pete assumed captaincy. I took the mate's chair. Scooter stood at the bow and Marcie was aft, a slight breeze being just enough to cause their wraps to lightly flap and dance, showing more of what wasn't being worn underneath. Each was holding a line and ready to jump as we coasted up to the pier. As expected, the jump never needed to happen. No less than six guys each swarmed the edge near the fore and aft ends of the boat, vying for the privilege of tying us off and assisting the girls in their disembarkation. Pete and I scrambled off on our own, laughing.

The guys' disappointment was clear when Scooter wrapped her arm around my waist and Marcie slid an affectionate hand down Pete's back, coming to rest on his ass. They politely disbursed, going back to their tables...some to rejoin now frowning dates of their own. I surveyed the deck in search of an open spot. Another arm slipped around my waist.

"Great minds..." Sharon said with a grin. "Join us? Otherwise you'll be waiting an hour."

"Great steak and eggs with mushrooms," Pete said, grinning back. "Where are you sitting?"

"Over there," she pointed, standing on tip toe and stretching her arm up to indicate a place on the far side from where we were standing. Robb and my mother and father waved. The stretch almost managed to ease Sharon's very ample cleavage out of her own barely there bikini top. Her wonderfully fleshy globes shifted, exposing the edge of one dark brown circle. I'm sure that I wasn't the only guy watching that noticed...or noticed the not so shy manner in which she pulled the tiny cloth triangle out and away, exposing the nipple and all for a lingering second or two before adjusting it back to its proper position.

"Great outfit," Scoot chuckled. "I see you got my telepathic memo." That made us all laugh, but in the back of my mind, I wondered. Was it really a joke? Comments like that always make me wonder. Our family's women seem scary connected sometimes.

Sharon was "dressed" in almost exactly the same way as Marcie and Scoot. A nearly insubstantial royal blue bikini top that covered only what needed to be, allowing the rest her breasts to happily spill in every direction. And a matching blue "wrap" that was more of a fog than a fabric, tied the same way as the girls.

"So you got it to work," she said, appraising the knot at her daughter's hip.

"Just like you showed me," Scoot said, doing a proud little spin. "I did Marcie's too. I hope they stay tied."

Sharon checked Marcie's knot. "It's perfect," she said. "You and Laurel look lovely! Now, follow me."

I think the eyes of every male out there followed the three of them, winding their way through the tables and across the deck. Even more so when my lovely gregarious mother...wearing the same thing, but in purple...stood up beaming and beckoned us to their table. Her supple D cup breasts shifted and rippled as she waved, straining against the strings and triangles of her own top.

I had to admit, the view was amazing and all four women seemed to enjoy the attention, three of them smiling demurely and throwing a lot of deliberate sway into each slow step. Pete laughed and shook his head as we followed. "It's too bad our family's so shy and reserved," he said to me. "They'd be so much more fun if they could just learn to come out of their shells."

Robb and Sharon are very regular regulars, so the hostess had seated them even though a six top table was all that was open. By the time we reached them, one of the bus guys had already brought out another two chairs. It was tight with eight, but it worked. My dad and my uncle were decked out in light weight white summer chinos and two of the loudest Hawaaian shirts ever made on the planet. All in all, the eight of us weren't exactly the most inconspicuous party at Nugent's that afternoon.

We ordered our food and Robb offered to order us beers. Pete asked for a Leiney, which prompted my dad to call him a Philistine. Which led us to tell them about trip to Toledo and the award and the naked presentation and Magic tournament. The food arrived and was amazing as always. Conversation was light. A lot of joking. Their previous day on the big lake had been perfect, which I was glad to hear. My dad was going in again for a treatment the following Wednesday, which always took a lot out of him. He looked great sitting there, but I knew he was going to have a couple tough weeks ahead.

Robb insisted on paying bill for us all as we finished our beers. Then, again, every male eye in the place was on us as our four ladies stood and wound their way toward the exit together, more than passingly aware of the looks they were getting.

We walked our parents out to the Cordoba, then ambled back down to the pier and the boat. Pete climbed aboard and fired up the engine. I held the side rail while Marcie and Scoot got the lines. They made sure to face away from the restaurant deck, and carefully bent at the waist while they worked, giving the maximum show. They also "struggled" as I helped them aboard, stretching far more than needed. Pete gunned the engine as soon as I boarded and a few of the girls' admirers actually cheered. Their tops were already off, and with little more than a magical flick of the wrist, the knots at their hips released and their wraps hit the deck as we sped away.

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Motoring back to the river house, all of us were oddly quiet. Part of it may have been the residual herb and the beers with lunch, but I think it was more than that. Marcie was stretched out up on the bow, eyes closed, tit up, legs slightly apart, relaxed and soaking in rays from the afternoon sun. Pete was playing captain, putting along at less than half throttle and hugging the shore, watching for loons or turtles sunning themselves on this or that random log. Scooter was half curled up on the cushioned built-in bench across from me in the far aft area. Watching my face. Obviously curious. The gentle rise and fall of the boat caused the sunlight to play across her darkly tan skin, creating hide and seek shadows along her legs, her hips, her tummy, her breasts, her face, as she nested, getting more comfortable.

I was thinking back to our 'brunch'. Not really analyzing, but savoring. Loved ones. Laughter. Cherishing. Thinking, but not really thinking. Letting myself be carried along in the flow. Hoping that later...maybe...I might in some way be able to capture a hint of it all in writing. And...looking back, I have to admit...steeling myself for the week to come.