A Weekend in the Hamptons

"How tall are you?" I asked. "Six feet?"

"Five ten."

"Perfect. The modeling agencies will go crazy to sign you. If you want that."

"How tall are you, Martin?"

"Six-four."

Her hands ran up my sides, paused to feel my shoulders, then ran fingers to my waist and hips again. I watched her eyes follow her hands.

"I like your shape, too," she said. "It's... perfect.."

Her hands swept over my shoulders and up my neck until she held my face in her hands.

"And this heavy beard, and these dark eyes and this dark hair, and kindness and gentleness drives me... crazy."

"If you're trying to seduce me, it's working," I said.

She just looked at me, her face and eyes asking to come closer.

I moved towards her, closing the space between us.

"Hold me?" her voice broke. "Please just hold me."

She curled up under my chin, pressing both hands to my chest. I put my free arm around her while my trapped arm held her shoulder until I moved it out and around her, moving her hair first so I wouldn't trap and pull it. Stupid trapped arm. No one's ever thought up what to do with it. I expected her to cry, but she didn't. Maybe it wasn't sadness that made her voice waver.

My nostrils flared at the ambrosia of her hair and her body up close. My mind raced a thousand miles a second. My heart pounded. I hadn't expected anything like this.

"God you smell good," I whispered.

"Mmm... so do you."

We rested a while, holding one another. It was too hot to be so close. Sweat glistened on our arms and faces, but neither of us moved away. Eventually she put her free arm around my waist and pulled herself closer.

We didn't talk for a long time. Then she moved out from under my chin and we shared a soft first kiss. She looked in my eyes after and cuddled up again to consider it, her hands still exploring my chest, belly and waist, her free hand moving over my waist and exploring my lower back. It wasn't long before she returned her lips to mine and we were kissing continually, rolling on the cushioned bench, taking turns on top, pressing our bodies ever more passionately together, then separating again in the heat and cooling off a bit before kissing again. I didn't put any pressure on her because, you guessed it, I'm not that kind of guy.

After a while we were just too hot to be so close. She decided on a swim, shedding shorts and top right next to me before diving off the back of the boat. I was mildly surprised she wore no underwear.

"Coming in?" she asked, treading water in the dark.

"I'll watch," I said.

"Come on," she replied, sweeping hair behind her ears with both hands. "The water's great."

I stripped and jumped in, too.

We swam and dove by the starlight, hauling out to rest on the diving platform off the back of her boat before jumping in again. Her eyes explored my body extensively and unabashedly in the pale moonlight as we dangled feet off the platform. I tried to maintain eye contact and was glad she smiled when she caught my eyes wandering over her. Our bodies brushed a few times as we hung off the platform next to each other in the water. At one point she wrapped legs and arms around me from behind and squeezed me in a hug before swimming off. We swam and wrestled in the water, pulling at each other, then separating to stay afloat. I let her dunk me a few times, but didn't return the favor, not wanting to frighten her. Swimming towards shore I found a sandbar shallow enough on which to stand and rest with the tops of my shoulders above water. She swam up and tried to do the same, but the water came up to her eyes, which was as good an excuse as any to cling to me from behind, her hands hooked over my shoulders. Then she climbed on as if I were giving her a piggyback ride, wrapping legs around my waist, pressing her body to mine.

"You're tall," she said, catching her breath.

"So are you," I replied.

At that she moved her hands over my shoulders, slowly and deliberately exploring my chest.

"You're strong," she whispered behind my left ear, bringing her arms back up to hold me around the shoulders and kissing the back of my neck.

I liked the strength of her thighs squeezing me, relaxing, and squeezing again, her pelvis pressing against the small of my back. I knew what she was doing, turning herself on, rubbing against me, feeling my body under her hands and between her legs. When she slipped lower, I hooked hands under her thighs to keep her from sliding off, but she relaxed completely, allowing my hands to carry her weight, which was light in the water. Resting her chin on my shoulder, she unwrapped one of her arms from around my shoulders and wrapped it around my torso under my arm. A moment later her hand slid all the way down my belly. I felt her fingers wrap around my hard on.

I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself, unable to believe this was happening. Moving my arms in ways I never quite expected I'd have to, I spread her legs a little on my back, my fingertips very slowly and gently massaging what I recognized as her large labia. She let go of my erection, slid her hand into my groin, caressed the inside of my thighs, first one side, then the other, then cupped my balls. I turned my head slightly, wanting to find her eyes and put my mouth on hers. Chin on my shoulder, she rested her head against my neck and jaw, her chest swelling in reaction to my fingertips caressing her outer folds. She gently cupped me, tenderly rolling testicles between her fingers before wrapping her hand around my erection again.

Women love a hard-on. I don't mean that in a derogatory way, but every woman I've been with has been obsessed with it and Cindy was no exception. Once she got hold of it she didn't let go, squeezing, stroking, caressing, or just holding it, letting go only long enough to hold my sack in her hand, my erection trapped between her forearm and my body while she did. And while women like hard dick, you have to let them come to it in their own time in their own way. Don't make any assumptions about this, gentlemen. It's almost always true.

While my fingertips had opened and continued to toy with her folds, one finger had been caressing her erect little nub, much to her intense delight. She gasped and hummed against my shoulder, put her open mouth on my neck, then arched her back and neck away from me a little before relaxing and resting her head on my shoulder again, her long wet hair falling over it, but she never let go of my erection. When she got tired of holding on across my shoulders with one arm, she switched to the other, her free hand immediately sliding down my belly to hold my sex again.

I wondered if she had done this before, standing in the water with Ethan, or if this was a way she felt safe and in control, hanging on to me from behind, avoiding face to face contact. Or had she fantasized this a thousand times in the night with a finger between her legs and now finally had the chance to make it happen? Or had it just unfolded this way on its own?

I wanted to pull her around to me and kiss her in the worst possible way, but restrained myself.

We didn't say anything, letting our bodies hold, tease, and touch one another, our only sounds the soft, breathless gasps escaping our lips. Communication is great during sex, but for two introverts like she and I, words were unnecessary. We both knew what this was about, what we were doing, and where this was heading. Dying to kiss her, all I could do was endure her lips and little love bites on my neck, shoulders and ears.

She caved first, letting go and moving around to meet me face to face. Like all guys, I pulled her in too strongly. We kissed passionately, but she pushed away with hands against my chest until I realized what I was doing. I relaxed, almost letting go. In response, she wrapped legs around my waist and pulled herself tightly to me. Let her come to you, grasshopper. Our kiss lightened, deepened, then lightened again before we came up for air. I exhaled on her neck, biting her ear lobe. Then she bit mine and whispered in my ear:

"I'm ready."

"I don't have condoms," I said.

"I'm on the pill," she whispered in my other ear.

I didn't respond.

"It's okay," she said.

"What about endometriosis?" I said, not wanting to pump her full of seawater. "Wanna get out of the water?"

"I put my diaphragm in."

So that's why it took her fifteen minutes to change below decks! Had she already decided then? Or did she want to push the option forward? Assuming she had taken her pill that day, she didn't need a diaphragm for birth control. I imagined her doing several deep swats, her fingers working where mine had just been, then inserting the flexible little disc and pushing it into place.

While I was thinking about this, she unwrapped her legs, reached down, grabbed my erection, and shifted herself.

Without missing a beat, I lifted her, she guided me in and I lowered her. She took most of me, which wasn't surprising given our extended foreplay, and like all women, she closed her eyes and stopped to consider the first moments of her open, lubed sex stuffed with mine. I wondered how long it had been for her. I knew how long it had been for me. She sighed and rested her forehead on mine for a moment, then opened her eyes. This was our first real eye contact and my heart melted at the affection I felt there. I don't know if she felt the same, but we tilted heads and kissed a long, gentle kiss. Before it ended I felt her first little thrusts and soon we could no longer kiss for all the gasps, grunts and moans as she rocked her hips against me, pulling with her long legs hooked round my hips.

I held her, letting her move any way she wanted, but assisted by rocking her in my arms, which she really liked. We coupled for a long time, our heads just above water. She stopped and started several times, enjoying the ride, making it last. When she slid off me, I spun her around and coupled with her from behind. Almost weightless in the water, it was easy to move her up and down and round and round, her head next to mine, her arms around the back of my neck, holding on, her mouth open, her back arching and unarching, her vocalizations one continuous run of gasps, moans, and squeaks. After some experimentation, I was able to hold and move her with one arm around her waist and ribs, freeing my other hand to work between her legs.

I'm always amazed at the length of the female orgasm compared to mine. Hers went on and on and then she slumped in my arms, resting a while with me inside before turning to kiss me behind her. I thought it ironic that we started with her behind me and finished with me behind her.

"God. Martin."

"You are amazing, Cindy."

"Let's get out of the water."

I let go of her and we started swimming back to the boat, which was only a few yards away.

I helped pull her up and out of the water, only to have her fall awkwardly across my legs where I sat. We kissed sitting next to each other on the diving platform. Once our naked legs, arms and torsos touched in the warm night air, we could not stop them. Still erect, I wasn't at all surprised when she grabbed me and guided me into her again. We coupled right there, she sitting on my lap with her back to me, our feet dangling overboard in the water together, me holding her close with one arm so she wouldn't slip away and moving fingers between her legs with the other. She lifted arms and hair and kept turning to kiss me behind her, hooking an arm around my head and neck as she had done in the water, her long hair flowing all over us until she gathered and tossed it aside again.

"God I love this," she sighed.

At first she couldn't use her legs to move with her feet overboard, and neither could I, though she wiggled her hips from side to side as much as she could and kept arching and moving her back. Sometimes she bent all the way forward, gasping for air, liking the way it changed me inside her and liking the way I pulled at her hips to slide her back to me. She stayed that way for a while with her head almost between her knees while I caressed her long, narrow back, but she eventually came back up to me, pressing her back to my belly. Then she pulled her feet out of the water and planted them on the platform, got ahold of a rail above and behind me, which gave her enough purchase to move like crazy, which she did. I loved the way she pulled, strained, and writhed in my arms. When she came I had to hold her tightly to keep her from falling off the boat as she cried out. The ocean and the humid summer night swallowed her sound. We shared a long kiss before she climbed over the transom and collapsed on the cushioned bench in the stern.

I stretched out wet next to her, half covering us with a beach towel and pulling her into my arms. She stuck her tongue in my mouth with a passion I will never forget and it wasn't long before we were coupling again. She just rolled up, straddled me, grabbed my erection and guided it inside.

"Mmmm," she purred, arching her back deeply to increase pressure on that most glorious of spots. "God you feel good."

"You are so very beautiful," I whispered, my hands finding her shoulders, breasts, and belly again, one palm coming to rest on her pubic mound.

When she planted both hands on my belly, I reached down and took them in mine, caressing her wrists. She smiled at me for the millionth time and interlaced fingers. I laid still, caressing her while she pumped athletically on top of me, then took her hips and began moving them in great circles.

"Oh my GOD, what are you DOING to me?"

I let go, caressing her breasts, body and sex while she moved. Her hips pumped out of control until she came again, finally collapsing to me, out of breath. Rolling off, she cuddled up. She held my erect member the whole time. After a suitable rest she got up and led me down into the cabin where she sat on the galley table and wrapped legs around me while I thrust into her. It didn't take long to blast my load inside her. I was way overdue.

After using the head we left the stuffy cabin and rested on the cushioned benches again, but when my erection returned she pulled cushions off onto the deck and straddled me there. Giggling, she slid onto me again, and didn't stop sliding until she had a fourth. After a short rest, I pulled her butt in the air and did her from behind, moving her as much as I could, not surprised she made the most noise of all in this position. Every woman I've ever been with likes it best from behind. Maybe that's why so many tattoo their lower backs. Eventually she couldn't stay on her hands and knees no longer, collapsing face down on the cushions. My pelvis moved out of control, slapping powerfully against her ass until I flooded her pussy with cum again.

"We better go," she said as we cuddled afterwards.

I held her all the way back to the marina while she sat on my lap in the captain's chair on the flying bridge, her long hair streaming behind her in the wind. We kissed a lot and shamelessly felt each other up, our passions not yet fully slaked.

It was after one when we got back to her house. Her parents still weren't home. We walked next door. Derek wasn't home either and his parents never came to the Hamptons the weekends he was there.

I walked her back across the lawn expecting to say goodnight, but Cindy pulled me into their pool house, kissing, folded down the futon couch there, spread a few beach towels underneath, and straddled me twice more before I took a final turn on top. Final score: Cindy 6, Martin 3. I always like losing. It's a man's duty.

Chapter Four

Derek had been right about one thing that first Saturday morning: I did look over at the Baldwin women a lot. It made him uncomfortable, but I was looking for Cindy. My heart jumped in my chest when she came out to sunbathe in a two piece. Not that it mattered what she wore. I had a huge crush on her and could not take my eyes off her. I kept stealing glances at her butt in a bikini, remembering what it felt like in my hands and against my legs and torso the many times she straddled me. It was the morning after, but instead of being embarrassed or wanting to avoid her, I wanted to be closer to her, to sit in the sun with her and make small talk just so I could hear her voice.

I didn't know if it had been a one night stand for her or whether we'd ever see each other again. Were we two heartbroken lovers finding solace in each other's arms? Or had we sparked off a new relationship? I confess it was new to me, having never slept with a girl the first night I met her. It had all the hallmarks of a rebound: rebound crush, rebound talk, rebound commiseration, rebound intensity, rebound sexual intensity. The suspense was killing me. I had to know if she wanted more. I wanted to walk over and ask her.

However defined, my night of passion with Cindy liberated me from my Cynthia. I no longer felt bound to her by fear, desire, or our history together. When she discarded me for the possibility of romance in France I had been emotionally devastated and unable to imagine finding love again. After a night in Cindy's arms I felt free. Still, I didn't want Cindy to be hurt by our unplanned passion. I didn't want her to feel used by me, nor did I want her to feel obligated, but most of all I wanted her to feel as liberated from her ex-Ethan as I did from my ex-Cynthia. All this raced through my mind in an instant while I stole glances at her cute little butt as she sunbathed with her mother and aunties and Derek kept hissing at me to stop looking over there.

I should have been more concerned about sharing my secret with her, getting ditched by my Cynthia, which I didn't want anyone to know. Alarm bells in the clear light of morning warned me that I hardly knew this girl so my secrets could easily become part of the local gossip. Further alarm bells rang over her stability. I had a sneaking intuition that all was not right with her. Still, her sullen unhappiness at the party completely evaporated when set loose from social constraints to ride free over the waves in her boat, then ride free over my body in and around that boat by the pale light of the half moon.

She played it cool when she walked over with her mother, neither pining or gushing over me. This was a third side to Cindy: daughter to her mother's fears and expectations, and it seemed to be a mixture of sad Cindy and confident Cindy, charting a course right down the middle for Mom.

* * * *

When Mrs. Baldwin returned to me that first Saturday morning on the beach, I was taken completely by surprise. Derek had gone inside to use the bathroom and had I buried my face in a volume of Arthur Slessinger's American History, highlighting text for a paper I had to write when suddenly she appeared by my side.

"Oh, hello again," I said, starting to get up.

"Please don't get up, Mr. White," she said, barely contained in jiggling string bikini.

"Please," I said, waving at the chair next to me.

"Thanks," she said, sitting. "Cindy can't stop talking about you and how much she enjoyed your company last night-"

"That's very kind of her."

"Please let me finish. She says you're not like other boys in that you make no romantic overtures towards her. I wanted to thank you for that. She trusts you and likes you very much."

"I'm flattered."

"Her aunts and I are attending a gala in the city and will stay at the house in Manhattan overnight. I won't be back until tomorrow. I was wondering if you'd keep her company this evening while we're away. She's old enough to be on her own, of course, but it'd be a great ease on my mind if she's not alone. If that's agreeable to you."

"Yes," I said, "I'd be happy to."

"You must have plans with Derek tonight."

"No, Mrs. Baldwin, he-"

"Please. Call me Sonja."