The other evening I was watching a travel programme on TV featuring a short item on the joys of a narrow boat holiday on the UK canal system and it brought back vivid memories of a sunny July afternoon walking along the canal towpath near to my home.
It was only a few weeks after my 18th birthday and, having left school with very few qualifications, I was looking forward to starting as a trainee hairdresser at my Aunt's salon next month.
The brightly painted canal boats coming and going were a familiar sight and although I'd never actually been on one, I often wondered what they were like inside. The towpath was a haven for couples walking their dogs, cycling, or just holding hands as they absorbed the atmosphere and tranquility.
It was an idyllic way to spend an afternoon and I was lost in my own little world plugged into my music player and occasionally throwing handfuls of bread scraps to the ducks and drakes that eagerly splashed around in an effort to devour every crumb. As I walked down the path beside a flight of locks I came across a section of the canal where several boats were moored. I was enjoying my music and wasn't paying much attention but I couldn't help noticing one particular boat where a fit looking guy was sitting in a canvas chair on the rear deck soaking up the sun. He looked really familiar but, in shorts, bare chested and wearing shades, I couldn't quite place him.
It was only when he said "Hi Candice, how are you?" that I realised that it was Mr Davis, my former geography teacher from school but, dressed so casually, I hardly recognised him.
"Is this boat yours?" I asked, "Yes it is Candice and it's my home too."
"Wow." I said, "That is so cool."
When I expressed an interest in the subject he invited me to step aboard so that he could show me around.
His boat was painted pale grey with black coach lines and was called 'DANCING QUEEN'.
He guided me down the steps into the rear part of the boat where I noticed a couple of framed pictures of the Swedish pop group 'ABBA' so I guess he was something of a fan. Anyway, it was a good talking point because my mum was also a massive ABBA fan.
He kicked off his sandals and I did the same.
He led me through a small lobby area to the main cabin, which was clean and bright with wood panelled walls and floors and everything looked immaculate. He clearly took great pride in his home and I just followed him through and admired everything as we went. We walked through a central cabin area where there was a curved shower enclosure and a neat looking toilet which, he showed how to use. As we moved forward through to the galley kitchen we sort of brushed and briefly pressed against each other several times in the confined space.
I didn't try to avoid it and neither did he and to be honest, I quite liked it.
We sat for while on the soft cream leather couch making small talk and drinking cloudy lemonade that he'd poured into two very large wineglasses.
I was intrigued by his lifestyle and asked, "whereabouts do you sleep?"
He stood up and walked to the far end of the salon where he pulled a cord and a set of pale cream voile curtains slowly parted to reveal a huge bed that filled the whole front area of the boat.
"I'm quite proud of this," He boasted. "I had it specially made. It's over 6 feet wide and nearly 7 feet from front to back."
He pointed towards the far end and proudly indicated how it followed the shape of the bow of the boat. It was beautifully set out with lots of pillows and cushions and looked really comfortable.
"It's just amazing" I said, "The person you share it with is very lucky."
He sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "Ah well, that's the sad thing Candice, I live alone and currently have no-one to share it with."
I felt a slight tingle within me, put down my drink and sat down next to him. I did no more than tilt my head and rested it on his shoulder but he took it as a signal and put his arm around me. I lifted my head and turned my face toward his. We looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds and then he kissed me tenderly. Suddenly he pulled away as though he'd done something wrong but when I moved closer to him and offered him my tongue, he realised that I was willing to carry on.
"Touch my breast." I whispered.
"Candice," he said, "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"We can talk later," I responded, "I just want you to touch me and I want to touch you."
We began to kiss like true lovers and I felt his hand squeezing my breast over my shirt. I reached down to his groin and felt the bulge in his shorts.
"Can I get it out?" I asked.
He just smiled which, I took to be a 'yes' and I eased the waistband over his beautiful stiff cock. I clenched my hand around it and started to pull up and down on it gently. I laid it against his tummy and noted that the tip reached beyond his navel.
"It's lovely." I said.
He started to say something about him being more than ten years older than I was but I just said "Shush."
By now my shirt was completely unbuttoned and his soft hands were sensuously massaging my plump firm breasts. He squeezed my nipples tenderly as I worked on his penis and then I noticed a small droplet of clear liquid oozing from the small hole at the tip. Almost instinctively I bent my head forward and licked it off. He gasped slightly and I realised how sensitive my touch had been. It was so easy and so natural just to take the tip of his cock into my mouth and the more I sucked on it the more I wanted. Soon I had as much of his manhood in my mouth as I could cope with and I realised that I could probably make him cum quite easily if I carried on but surely it was too soon.
I eased myself off the bed and stood in front of him asking him to undress me. He slipped my shirt off exposing my naked breasts and unzipped my shorts pulling them over my hips so that they dropped to the floor. I stepped out of them and he tugged gently at my white lacy panties. He did it really slowly so that he could savour the vision of my peachy blonde tuft of pubic hair emerging gradually before revealing my tantalising slit which, he bent forward and licked tenderly before sliding my panties off.
He stepped out of his shorts and sat on the edge of the bed whilst I stood in front of him gently massaging his glorious cock. He was caressing my breasts and sucking my erect nipples and it felt wonderful but I was aching for him to turn his attention elsewhere so, after a few minutes, I took one of his hands and placed it on my tummy just below my navel. I looked at him and spread my legs slightly so that he was in no doubt as to what I wanted him to do. Using the lightest of touches he brushed his hand over my pubic area and stroked my inner thighs before dragging his finger up and down my slit. He knew where my clitoris was and how to tease it so that my vagina soon became wet. I'll never forget the sensation of his finger slipping inside me but by now of course, I'd reached the point where I wanted to go all the way with him so I asked him to lie down.
I crawled over the bed and lay on top of him where the feeling of his warm naked skin against mine was just magical. Soon we were kissing passionately and I could feel my legs parting as I worked myself into a position where I could guide the tip of his cock towards the opening of my waiting love hole.
