The Picer's Pleasure

"These are the scuppers. They let out any water that may accumulate on deck. Sometimes – during the rush – you'll have to come over here and kick fish out of the way so that the water can drain properly." For the past two hours, Brent had been introducing Claire to the ins-and-outs of sea life. He would be senior deckhand on the fishing vessel Carrie Anne: this meant that Claire not only had to answer to his father but be responsible to any order that he gave. At the same time, he would be working closely with her and able to answer any questions she may have. "We'll go down into the cabin now and ready that for the next opening."

Claire followed Brent closely, admiring the grace with which he shifted his weight in response to the slightest rocking of the boat. In time, she too would develop sea legs, she'd been assured; personally Claire was not so confident. The way he stood on the balls of his feet made her picture how he must be flexing his knees in order to carry most of his weight with his thigh muscles. This made her, in turn, picture the strength of said thigh muscles, then what these must feel like wrapped around her waist…

With a gasp, Claire ran directly into Brent where he'd stopped and turned to address her. She'd been so involved in her fantasies of his body that she'd stopped paying attention by the time his actual body ceased to lead her. His strong, seasoned hands caught her forearms as he steadied her still-clumsy recovery. The firm touch sent a thrill through her body although she tried to repress her instinctive reaction. For a moment, when she was caught within the net of his arms, Claire felt his breath and thought he might kiss her, but he soon released her with a smile.

He turned away, and she was confused by this sudden rejection. It had seemed as though he too had felt some jolt when they'd touched, and he now did not meet her eyes. An instinctive and hurried glance at his jeans revealed a slight swell, the sight of which caused a warm tingle to begin within Claire's panties. His self-assured voice began, "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind a rum and Coke. You game?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. I'd love one."

Brent turned from the cooler that functioned as their refrigerator. "I forgot, you're just eighteen, aren't you?" He shook his head, seemingly amused. He muttered to himself, loud enough for Claire to barely hear, "Robbin' the cradle…"

When he handed her the drink, they slid into the benches at the small, attached table. He asked her about her life; she asked him about his. Although it appeared that they shared similar outlooks on many things, they both seemed to be taking part in a charade. The questions asked and the answers given were not those that needed to be asked, and the heaviness of unspoken conversation triggered pheromones. When Brent asked if Claire wanted a refill, she did not waffle.

Soon her cheeks felt as flushed as his looked and their glasses were empty.

"Hell, you haven't even seen the rest of the cabin, have you? Here, I'll show you our little 'home away from home.'"

He stepped smoothly down into the dark cavern that (she assumed) held the remainder of their amenities. He held out his hand to stabilize her as she followed him into the darkness, and continued flesh-on-flesh contact for a moment longer than necessary. Once the brief tour of the head and storage was completed, all that was left was their bunks. The space was cramped; as such she could smell his alcohol-sweet breath in her hair and feel the heat that radiated from his body.

"You'll bunk up here. I know it seems way too small, but you'll get used to sleeping curled up. My dad's bunk is down here, and mine is underneath yours."

Brent seemed quite amused by her reactions, and his playfulness was contagious. Claire teased him, "Oh, I see. Yours is a lot bigger than mine. You need that space for entertaining ladies at sea?"

She was rewarded with a chuckle. "Well, rank doth have its privileges. Here, do you want to feel what it's like?" There was a moment of charged silence before he added, "To sleep on the big bunk, I mean."

In an answer, Claire climbed into his bunk. She could stretch her legs out to nearly their full length and there was enough room for one other person to curl beside her. He'd spread his sleeping bag out and the fabric made a silky rustle when she moved.

Brent stood for a moment and Claire's angle provided her a perfect vantage point to see the outline of a slight bulge in his jeans. He seemed to consider for a moment before slipping into the bunk alongside her. "You see," he murmured, "I have a little light for reading, and a cupboard where I can keep my necessities."

He flicked on the light to demonstrate, and Claire was surprised at the intensity of his gaze upon hers. Until now he'd been relaxed, but his breathing was now short and she could feel the tension in his body as it touched hers on the shoulder, stomach, and thigh. She too could not seem to find enough air to breathe and licked her suddenly too dry lips. Brent reached over her to unlatch the cupboard then rested his heavy hand upon the curve between her ribs and hips. Claire glanced into the cupboard which was empty save for an unopened box of condoms. Brent flicked off the light.

The words that had gone unsaid since they'd met were now spoken with their forced breaths and their bodies. She leaned forward and met his urgent mouth; it tasted like sugar, rum, and something else, more intoxicating than the liquor. Her tongue lapped his furiously, finding excitement in the exploration of his cavities. She slid her knee between his and he leaned into her. His erection rubbed her eager mound beneath the fabric of their jeans. Brent's hand began to slide in circles on her side, lifting her shirt slightly more with each lap. Soon his fingers traveled from atop the fabric to her bare skin, and then his palm followed. Claire lifted her upper body slightly, both to allow his better access to her breasts and to press her shaking body more firmly against his hard one.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to –"

Claire cut him off by thrusting her tongue violently into his mouth and snaking her hand under his shirt. She'd never been so sure in her life, and her body told her that she would regret not taking this opportunity. He responded with a moan and pulled her on top of him, rocking his hips into her sweetness with the motion of the boat. Claire broke off their kiss to pull off her shirt then again attacked his mouth with hers, sinuously rubbing her against his entirety. Brent pushed her away firmly, then crushed his mouth against her chin and down her neck. His darting tongue licked her collarbone and chest as his lust-clumsy hands fumbled with the clasp of her bra. She began to hum and moan as he suckled at her right nipple though the fabric, running her hand though his hair to hold him against that sensitive spot. In one deft motion, he released the clasp then moved his hands to her hips to hold them to his as he rocked into her. She wound her clad legs around his as his tongue furiously circled one erect nipple then the other. She'd never gone any further than this with a boyfriend, but she now tore at his shirt until he allowed her to rip it over his head.

"God…" Brent chanted, as if in prayer. "Godgodgodgodgod." Claire had attended church intermittently through childhood, but she'd never found a savior who'd felt like this. Her loins were a liquid blaze, and now his fingers fumbled at her jeans, under her panties, into her her her…

Claire's back arched as much with the pain of the sudden intrusion as the pleasure his body was now giving her. She clasped her hands upon his shoulders, her feet firmly behind his thighs, and rolled them to their sides. She tore at his jeans once the path was more cleared. He helped her by removing the pressure of his lower body from hers, then he ground into her with renewed vengeance. One of his hands was occupied within her moist cunt while the other pinched at a nipple altogether too enticingly, thus Claire found it necessary to unbutton her own jeans and dance them over her hips. No sooner was her cunt uncovered by denim than Brent moved his hips atop hers; the pants he helped pull down with a foot. This actually helped him thrust into her as the removal of the encumbering objects required the cooperation of their sliding, entwined legs.

Only two layers of thin cloth now separated her slick cunt from his straining cock. Apparently feeling neglected, he took her hand and moved it to his member, which she began to stroke through the restraint of his boxers. He moaned slightly and she felt the vibration as though it were attached to her clit. His body no longer blanketed hers because he'd raised himself slightly to get a better angle on her wet panty-covered hole.

"I want to be inside you right now." He'd slid his mouth to her ear, and took advantage of the proximity to lick it in punctuation. His clever tongue thrust in and out of her ear in rhythm to the movement of his hips.

"I…I've never…" Claire began, as caught up in the sensation as she was afraid her admission would make it stop.

As she'd feared, Brent did cease his rocking and pulled his upper body off of hers, looking at her in the dark. His cock still rested against her panties, though, and seemed all the more intense because it was the only erotic pressure at the moment. "No shit," he said unpoetically. She nodded, not trusting her voice. They lay for what seemed like an eternity, unmoving but stimulated beyond belief. They breathed heavily into one another's necks, chests, and breasts, but Brent seemed unwilling to act until Claire slid her hands slowly down Brent's body and under his boxers to place her hands upon his buttocks. She pressed him into her and rotated her hips slightly.

"I want you…in me," she sighed resolutely.

He again began to rock in perfect unison with her. "I guess…I'll just have…to be gentle." As an afterthought, he added, "As gentle as I can be."

They moved inevitably toward the unavoidable. Her hands slid to the front, still under his boxers, and she clasped his cock and fondled his balls. After a few moments of delightful exploration, she pulled his boxers off entirely and felt the entire length and girdth of him in her hands.

Brent, meanwhile, had yanked down her panties nearly immediately. After that rather violent action, he seemed to remember his promise and lightly rubbed circles upon her clit. Her eyes rolled back in the darkness, and a soft hum began deep within her throat. How did he know, how did he know how to touch her, exactly how she touched herself? She urged him to continue, so very aware that he was slowly moving his body closer and closer to hers, touching at the knee, at the thigh, at the, the…

She heard the ripping of a package. How had he apparated a condom so magically?

The tip of his cock rested at the gateway to her womanhood. He removed his hand from where it had so deliciously teased her clit, and now there was even less space separating them, just the strength of his upper arms. He panted into her and she moaned slightly as he increased the pressure on her engorged clit. She moaned slightly, wanting so badly the remedy that only he could provide.

With his face set in concentration, Brent aligned his hips between Claire's parted thighs. His breath caught, he jerked forward, she gasped…

And it was done.

He held himself in position for a moment, allowing her to feel his length inside her tight wetness. Then he lowered himself so that his weight was fully upon her, chest to chest, wrapped his corded arms around her back, and pulled her in the closest embrace. She breathed shallowly when she accepted more of him, and then more, until it seemed that all of her was filled and she could not imagine being empty again. He relaxed his taut grip on her shoulders, exhaled, and began to move. She rose to meet him.

Their motion was as fluid as the ocean beneath them, and anciently powerful. Brent's sleeping bag was slippery and whispered with their every rise and fall. Soon Claire's moans joined the scuffs and lapping sound of the waves. Brent's breathing grew ragged and he began to move faster now, faster.

She wedged her feet into the sides of the bunk and tilted her pelvis to allow more of him to enter her. She dug her hands into his buttocks and pulled him further into her. In response he pumped harder, exhaling heavily each time.

"Oh…oh…oh…oh…"

Suddenly, the friction of his cock pounding into her proved too much and she came. Her vision went white, dimly she could hear his moan as he thrust into her one final time and then they collapsed into the bunk, gasping and clutching one another. Claire's hair stuck to her forehead with perspiration but she could not think to move it. Slowly, their breaths deepened and became more regular. She kissed his shoulder and he squeezed her gently in response.

Soon, they would have to regarb and return to land. Claire knew this, but for the moment she treasured the feel of Brent's spent body on hers, perfectly fitted. Although she knew that her life would resume with the mundanities of the clothed world, for the moment she was sated.