I have written a few stories. Mostly I have received positive and encouraging response from the readers, but some have expressed their disapproval of my bad command of the English language. Living in a country where we have two domestic languages combined with the need of a third language not being English, the result is that there are some flaws in my English.
Therefore I can only apologize for the mistakes I make
. Still I like to write in English - isn't that a way to improve your command of the language?
* * * * *
We returned to the marina late in the afternoon. We had eaten food from tins and had a few beers. And we had had each other in all the ways we could come up with. One special thing I remembered with a laugh afterwards. While we were having a beer and a sandwich, Amy suddenly went down on her knees in front of me, and started to suck on my almost constantly erect dick. As I was approaching, once again, a formidable orgasm, she grabbed the bread and placed it around my throbbing prick, like a hot dog. With the bread she then massaged the pole until I came. The sperm was collected in the bread, some of it dripping to the deck. Then she resolutely started to eat on her "hot dog," this time without any sausage in it. I laughed, she smiled.
"That was the best hot dog I have ever had," she mused.
There was a small piece of it left. She handed it to me, nodding her head. I ate it up. I wasn't as exalted as she seemed to be.
"Well, as always it's a matter of taste," I explained with a smile.
I had some more beer. Checking that no boats were in view, we went down under deck and med proper love.
"I love you," Amy said.
"Me too," I answered. I felt very happy.
Before we reached the marina we put our clothes on. At the restaurant close to my boats, we had proper food. No pizzas and hot dogs this time. We discussed our future. For how long would we keep our relationship a secret? I was afraid that her parent's reaction would be very negative, she wasn't. We decided to let matters depend for the time being. After enjoying the good dinner we ordered two taxies. Not to go separate ways, but to have the other driver drive my car. I paid them off handsomely and we were at Amy's place, my car in front of her garage. We entered the house and watched the news on TV. What now, I thought? As Amy had read my thoughts, she asked:
"Do you play chess?"
"Sure, I have played it quite a lot. Do you like it?"
"Yes, very much, but I'm afraid I'm not very good at it though," she said.
Soon we were sitting around a table on her patio, the chessboard between us and some nice cold drinks waiting for us to taste them. The first match turned out to be a tough one. She was very good at the game. She had changed into a nice dress; the yellow color suited her well, the cleavage in the front wasn't too deep, actually not deep enough at all. The lower part of it was quite loose, the hem covering her knees. I took a deep sip from my glass.
"Your dress is very nice, but it doesn't expose very much though," I said.
"You mustn't think that I'm very easy to get, all the time," she replied with a somber expression on her face. What's up I thought?
We finished the game; I won with a very small margin. One pawn more did it.
"This is a special day, so we must act accordingly," Amy said after complimenting me on my play.
"Oh, I didn't know. What day is this?"
"It's Saturday," she answered with a smile. So she was playing another game now. My guess was, that she wanted me make my approaches in some kind of a chivalrous way. I hoped my guess was right. It is so easy to make a fool of yourself. How far did she want me to go, I wondered? I stood up, went into the living room and put on some music. I managed to pick a CD with soft dance music. I returned to the patio. I bowed in front of her.
"May I have this dance?" I asked. Had I gone too far?
"Yes, Sir, much obliged," she said and rose. We danced. I was keeping one hand behind her back; in my left hand I kept her hand. We really danced well together in spite of the 'old fashioned' dance.
"Miss, how do you master this kind of dance so well?" I asked maintaining the play act.
"My parents have taught me, Sir" she answered in a most polite way.
I tried to get in closer to her, but she pushed me away. For how long did she want to resume the awkward acting? I had a profuse bulge in my pants. We hade danced four pieces as the music stopped. I brought her back to her chair. She sat down, and I bowed to her expressing my thanks. I returned to my chair, my pole quite visibly protruding in my pants. I sat down.
"What are your wishes, Miss?" I commenced the play-acting. "I do not have any special wishes," she said without a smile.
"Would you like me to leave?" I asked trying to let her give up the play.
"As you please, Sir," she said, not helping me out in the least. Damn.
Was she tired and wanted to rest, or was she just trying me out? I didn't want to give up too easily though.
"Can I offer you a drink, Miss," I tried.
"Yes, please. I'd like a Campari Soda," she said.
I brought her drink. I sat down again.
"You are very beautiful tonight, Miss," I tried.
"Thank you, Sir, very nice of you to say so," she said with a polite smile.
"Would you mind, if I came and sat there beside you, Miss?" I asked.
"No, by all means. You are welcome, Sir," she said.
I moved over and pulled a chair quite close to hers. I sat down. I looked at her.
"The cloth of your dress looks very fine. Do you mind if I try it with my hands?"
"No, not at all, Sir. But don't try any thing. I'm very innocent," she explained.
I touched the hem, took the cloth between my fingers. Then I moved my hand upwards, trying to reach for her breast. She pushed my hand away.
"I told you to behave, Sir," she said. I looked down in her cleavage between her breasts. I couldn't see a thing. I was starting to feel frustrated.
"Do you, Miss, have a bra on?" I wagered.
"How naughty of you, Sir, to ask such an indecent question," she answered, giggling this time. That was an improvement!
"You are so very beautiful, I just can't think straight," I explained.
"Well, if you must know, Sir, I don't. And I don't have any pants either."
"Is that so, most intriguing, Miss," I miss. "Have you ever lifted your hem up?"
"Not me, Sir, that would be awful," she said.
"Why is that? Do you have ugly legs, Miss?"
"Most certainly not. It just isn't proper to show them to men. They might start thinking something."
"What could they possibly think of, Miss?" I asked.
"They might start to think how it would be to touch the legs in improper places."
"Why would a man do that, Miss? Men are decent creatures, most of them at least."
