JUST AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL–Part 2 of 6

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We were awake at eight, into the shower again, and into my Toyota Highlander SUV before nine. I was pleased to see that Rosalie was dressed sensibly in a sweatshirt and shorts along with ankle socks and sneakers. I was dressed similarly except that I had boat shoes even though they looked like sneakers.
We stopped at a deli just a block from the harbor where we ordered breakfast and sandwiches with some potato salad and a pickle for our lunch. Once they were done we retreated to the SUV where we opened the coffee. Rosalie laughed when I showed her the notice—WARNING! HOT! “Just think where the world would be without lawyers.”

Rosalie choked and gasped. “Do me a favor, will you? Don’t make me laugh when my mouth is full of HOT coffee. Remember yesterday when that beer came out of your nose? I almost had the same experience.” Then she laughed and kissed me. We looked into each other’s eyes for several minutes and we both knew. After knowing each other for only four days we were falling hopelessly in love.

I broke the gaze by handing Rosalie her bacon and egg sandwich. She took it with a smile that could have melted an iceberg. “You’re such a romantic,” she joked. Then we quieted down as we ate. I didn’t know what Rosalie was thinking, but I resolved to thank Sheila if I ever ran into her again.

After breakfast we walked around the corner to a bait and tackle shop. I selected a dozen three-ounce sinkers and two dozen Virginia hooks, a dozen each in size 4 and 6. Then two dozen sand worms finished the order. I paid with my Master Card and we drove down to the yacht club. The first thing I did was have Rosalie try on a PFD—a personal flotation device. I never took chances on the water, but we’d be in and among rocks the entire day. We’d also encounter other boaters, some of whom knew less than nothing about boater safety. As I had thought, an Adult Small fit her perfectly. I had one also and I always wore it in the boat. I explained that it would inflate automatically as soon as it hit the water. “I hope you never need to use it, especially today. The water temperature is only 56 degrees.”

With Rosalie’s help we carried everything—three rod/reel combos, my tackle box, a net and gaff, my backpack full of electronics gear and the cooler with our drinks and lunch—out to the dock. We dropped everything except the cooler and the electronics onto the dock while I waited for the launch that would take me to my mooring. Northport harbor was big, but not big enough to have a lot of dock space so almost everyone moored their boats. Mine consisted of two 150-pound mushroom anchors that had dug themselves deep into the sandy bottom over the five years I’d owned it.

Boat theft is a big problem so I’d had a long chain fabricated from stainless steel. Stainless can’t be cut with a hacksaw and using bolt cutters was almost impossible. My two locks were high security, too with shackles made of stainless, as well. Each of the twin 200 HP Yamaha outboards was bolted through-hull with two different kinds of high security bolts that needed a special irregular wrench to open them. I kept those wrenches at home in my safe.

I hopped from the launch over the gunwale of my 24-foot Robalo center console, tipping the launch operator five bucks, as always. He stayed until I had started my engines, as though there was any doubt. I rigged my GPS/Fishfinder to the console and stowed my backpack under the front seats. Then I unlocked the boat from the mooring. Five minutes later Rosalie was aboard with all of my gear.

“We have to go slow while we’re in the harbor,” I told her. “Once we’re in open water I’ll open them up. Make sure you stay seated.”

“Okay, Captain. Do I have to follow orders while onboard?”

“It’s the law.”

“Oooh, I hope the captain orders me to fuck him.”

“You’re incorrigible. What happened to the old-fashioned girl?”

“I’m still here, but I have to obey the law, don’t I?”

I shook my head, but I did it with a smile. “Just incorrigible; you’d better not give me any ideas.” Once we had cleared the breakwaters I veered east toward Smithtown Bay and Crane’s Neck just beyond. Blackfish like rocky areas and they don’t get any rockier than Crane’s Neck.

I had one hand on the throttles and the other on the wheel when I pushed the levers forward. The boat jumped forward and we were pushed back into the seats as though by a huge invisible hand. Once we were on plane at almost 50 mph I had a spare arm for Rosalie. “Okay?”

She had a huge grin when she answered. “Hell, yeah; this is great. I love the wind in my face. This boat is really fast. It feels like we’re doing a hundred.”

I pointed to the GPS and Rosalie looked crestfallen. “Only 48? It seems much faster.”

“I’ll explain why later. See that point of land? That’s where we’re going—Crane’s Neck. I’ve caught some real monsters there–even a couple that made the cover of Long Island Fisherman.”

“I had no idea I was in the company of a real celebrity—a celebrity with a nice thick cock. I’ve seen a few, but that was the thickest I’ve ever seen. Is it true that thickness is more important than length?

“Well, ask yourself—what would I like better–a long thin pencil that I can barely feel or a nice thick sausage like the ones your mom used for the sausage parm yesterday?”

“I love sausage parm. Yum! Maybe one of these days I’ll spread some melted cheese on you and eat you. How would that be?”

“Great; except for the hot cheese part. Have you ever driven a boat like this? It’s easy. You can be a big help when I anchor.” I moved aside to give Rosalie the helm. First, I had her handle the steering and then the throttles, showing her the positions for forward, neutral, and reverse. Rosalie was intelligent and the procedures simple so she caught on in only a few minutes. “Go ahead, skipper…open them up.” The look on her face when the four hundred horses surged forward was priceless. I held onto the T-top support for dear life as Mario Andretti took the wheel. I took over again when we neared land. I followed the GPS to a spot that had been especially productive last fall. That didn’t mean it would work today, but my past successes had shown that it might.

The boat moved forward at a crawl as I searched for just the right spot. Then I moved up another twenty feet and turned the helm over to Rosalie as I went to handle the anchor. “Once I drop the anchor put the engines in reverse until the display shows zero.”

“Then into neutral?”

“Smart girl.” I could tell from the sound of the engines when she shifted into neutral so I took up the remaining slack in the anchor rode and made fast around the cleat. I joined Rosalie at the helm, proud to note that we were only two feet off on the GPS. “That was great Rosie. I couldn’t have done any better myself.”

Rosalie turned the most delightful shade of red. “What?”

“Nobody’s ever called me ‘Rosie’ before.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t….” I never had the chance to finish as my mouth was suddenly and very effectively covered by Rosalie’s.

“Don’t be sorry, silly. I love it…my own pet name. Now…how about another kiss?” I leaned down and our lips met. I would have held it except for the catcalls from another boat about a hundred feet away.

Moving back from Rosalie—Rosie—I turned and shouted, “Thanks guys.”

“You’re welcome! You won’t catch any fish that way!”

“You never know,” I whispered to Rosie. “You just might get a real keeper.”

“Yeah…you never know,” she whispered back.

I broke out the rods and reels. I’d taken the time to re-spool with new monofilament—15 pound test. “These are level-winds. See this little thing on the reel? That will keep your line from tangling and it’s much easier to reel in when you don’t have to guide the line with your finger.” I showed her how to release line and set the anti-reverse lock. I tested the drag and explained how it worked then I broke out the bait.

“That has to be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” she commented at her first sand worm.

“I’m inclined to agree, but you have to know about these.” I showed her the pincers at the mouth. “I have no idea why they have these, but a nip can really smart. I prefer the mouth because it holds the bait on better.” I laid the worm on the cutting board and cut two one-inch pieces for each of us then I ran the hook up through the central canal of the worm’s body, leaving the hook’s barb exposed.

“Shouldn’t you hide the end of the hook?”

“Not for these fish; they eat crabs and barnacles so something hard in their mouth won’t scare them. I handed her a rod and baited one for myself. Each rig had two hooks. I explained that was how the world record blackfish had been caught in the ocean off Virginia. “A twenty-five pounder took one of the baits and a five-pound black sea bass took the other. People on board the boat thought it was the antics of the sea bass that stopped the black from getting into the rocks. Don’t forget…wait for the second tug.”

“How will I know…oh shit! What was that?”

“The first tug; you’ll catch on.” Just then she got the second tug and, luckily, the fish hooked itself. Rosie struggled to bring it to the surface, but it was a short—a fish too small to keep. I took her picture with it and dropped it over the side.

We fished for the rest of the morning. I was pleased that Rosie caught four fish—two keepers—to my three with just a single fish thrown into the live well. I washed my hands in the cold water by leaning over the side then dried them on a nearby towel. We fished through lunch, but we sat at the helm rather than stand on opposing sides. “Can you tell me now what you did to me last night? My whole body was tingling and I’ve never cum like that…never!”

“I’m glad you’re facing away from those other boats. Voices carry a long way over the water.” I was barely whispering when I continued. “I think most of it was you. Not only do you have incredible posture, but you have incredible skin, too. You are so receptive and easily stimulated. I especially loved teasing your nipples and areolas. I thought you were going to jump off the bed.”

“So did I,” she returned with a grin.

“I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”

Now she looked down. “Thanks for saying that even though we both know it’s not true. I’m skinny and I have tiny boobs. My hips are narrow so I look like a boy.”

“Let me tell you something. Having big boobs is overrated. Sure, guys look, but they automatically think a woman is a whore if she has big breasts and ever think of the stress they place on a woman’s back? Later in life they sag until you can tie them in knots.”

“That’s not true,” she said with a laugh. “They do sag, but you can’t tie them.”

“Well, I stand by my comment. You have a small frame so you’d look ridiculous with D-cups. They’ll get bigger when you become pregnant and they’ll probably stay that way. You’re an extremely good-looking woman with wonderful posture and better skin. You’re smart and have a great personality. Plus, you obviously have morals. Guys may say that they want a whore, but who wants to marry someone they can’t trust?” We finished our heroes, pickle, and potato salad. I threw the trash into a bucket I always had on board.

Fishing slowed so I let another ten feet of anchor line out. Fishing for blackfish is like real estate—location, location, location. We caught two more keepers and then it was time to head in. I gave our remaining bait to one of the nearby boats and I sat back as Rosie pointed the boat west and dropped the hammer. We were on plane doing almost fifty miles per hour in seconds, tearing across Smithtown Bay in minutes. She gave the helm back to me once we had reached the harbor mouth. Fifteen minutes later I had dropped her and our catch at the dock and hosed down the boat, locked it to the mooring chain, and caught the launch back to shore. I cleaned and filleted the keepers at the dock then loaded the SUV for the brief trip home.


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I baked the fish with some oregano and lemon juice while Rosie and I showered. She seemed to take an awful lot of interest in my thick cock, now sans the fur that had grown there during puberty and remained until our shower last night. We hugged and kissed and hugged some more. I marveled at how sensitive her skin was once again.

We ate in the kitchen and Rosie greatly approved of my culinary skills. We were cleaning up when I told her I’d take her home. “Tomorrow morning will be fine. I want to see if last night was a fluke.” It wasn’t. She jerked me off, this time in bed where we were both naked, her small hands surprisingly strong as they gripped and stroked me to orgasm. Then I repeated my performance, not licking her from her lips to her pussy, but lightly grazing her lips first with mine and my tongue followed by brushing her cheek and ear while blowing gently. She seemed to experience her first orgasm by the time I had reached her nipple and then it just got better. Damn, but her nectar gushed, soaking my sheets, by the time I reached my destination. She was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane before I reached her tight abdomen. My first long pass of her gash, my lips barely touching her sensitive skin, had her thrashing wildly–her eyes rolled back in her head and her hands tightly gripping the sheets. It hit a crescendo once I nibbled her clit. Her head shook wildly and her scream seemed to be never-ending. The massive spasm drove me up more than a foot and held me there for almost twenty seconds before a total collapse in which she had clearly passed out.

I moved up the bed, lay onto my back, and gently pulled Rosie’s head onto my left shoulder. She moved into my body, her dripping cunt firmly on my thigh. Once I had pulled the blanket over us I whispered just loud enough for her to hear, “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You are so receptive to my every touch, but—best of all is the person you are. You’re cute as a button, smart, and funny. I can’t believe that I’ve known you only eight days and I’m already falling deeply in love with you.” I had finished when I realized that she was still unconscious, her breathing deep and regular as she slept on my chest.

Rosie woke me around 5:20 when she rose to use the toilet. She slid back into position and surprised me when she whispered, “Mmmmm, I sure could get used to sleeping like this.”

I couldn’t resist chuckling to myself as I wrapped my arm around her and responded, “Me, too.”

Rosie gave me a playful jab to the ribs as she told me, “You weren’t supposed to hear that!”

“That’s okay.