Grace Eddy: Her little crew

But she soon discovered she didn't have to worry. Mr. Hammel didn't try to get on top of her and force his way between her legs. Instead, he knelt on the floor beside the couch and began kissing her tiny, hard-muscled belly.

Ted sighed at the memory. It had been twenty-seven years since poor Mr. Hammel had buried his face in her immature belly and… At thirty-nine her body had finally made it to what most girls had at twenty. Standing in shorts and halter bracing herself at the windward sidestay she knew she could stiffen every prick in the yacht basin-and especially the fourteen-year-old's who was steering. She wondered if the other boy was grown up enough to think about girls.

Anyhow, it was cruel and unusual punishment to make the boy look at her superb and eminently fuckable body when he knew he would never get into it. She had gone below to fix lunch.

Ted thought a moment, trying to guess what boys this age and from this background might like. She had a few real goodies aboard-some Iranian caviar among other things. Chances were a ghetto boy would take half a taste and spit. Suddenly she remembered. That asshole of a marlin fisherman in the next slip who had decided she would be a quick and easy lay… He had brought over a load of garbage one night. She had tossed it in the refrigerator without-looking.

She opened the reefer and tore the bag down the side. It was full of hot dog makin's. She gave a mental sneer at the he-man fisherman who had retired in precipitate confusion when she had lifted a hundred-pound anchor with one hand rather than scratch a freshly varnished deck. She hoped he had found a girl somewhere mentally and physically equipped for hot dogs.

But this, she realized, was ideal for these two boys. She started making hot dogs, trying to ignore the fourteen-year-old at the tiller whose eyes alternated between his course and her ass. Then abruptly the boy was in the cabin with her. "Can I help?" he asked.

Ted gave a quick look topside. Thirteen-year-old John was steering. From the heel of the hull and feel of the seas she guessed he was holding a fair course "Why not?" she said and handed Albert a jar of mustard.

The boy surprised her by washing his hands before he started smearing mustard on buns. Hope for the masses yet, she thought. She tried to think of something they could talk about. "Do you think you'd like to be a sailor?" she asked.

"If you mean go in the Navy the answer is no."

"I mean just to get a job of some kind around boats," she said. "Lots of young people work their way around the world."

"What's there?"

Ted shrugged. "Adventure, I guess."

Albert surveyed her shorts and halter-clad body from fourteen-year-old eyes. "I wouldn't have to go off clear 'round the world for what I want," he said.

Ted felt herself blushing. Not just her face. To her annoyance she knew her whole body-acres and acres of smooth, white skin was flushing beneath the boy's avid gaze.

She supposed she ought to slap him. She was nearly forty. This fourteen-year-old snot had no business talking that way to her. But… she tried to be honest. She could have worn something else a little less revealing. She knew damn well her body was still better than plenty of twenty-year-olds. She had asked for it. She shouldn't penalize the boy for doing what comes naturally. Besides… it felt good to stand here and be wanted. How long had it been since she had been wanted by any man she could stand thinking about?

Mostly she got dipshits and gone-to-seed rumpots like that marlin fisherman who still carried a mental image of himself twenty years younger and twenty pounds lighter. She didn't need fucking that bad. She didn't need it at all. But it would be fun to… she wondered if in her old age she was turning into the same kind of lecher old Mr. Hammel had been that day when she was twelve and had taken off her clothes and laid down on his casting couch.

With his face buried in the firm muscularity of her little gently-rounded belly Mr. Hammel had breathed so hard and fast she had feared for a moment he was having some kind of attack. "Oooohhhh!" he moaned, and nuzzled her, ploughing gentle furrows back and forth, up and down her soft smooth belly with his nose.

Ted didn't mind. It was easier work than stretching her ass out of shape at the exercise bar. She wondered how long he would keep it up, or if he would want her to do anything else. She knew from whispered commentary that the boys were in the habit of putting their mouths in all sorts of unusual places but she had never heard of men doing that to girls. Mostly men seemed to want to put their thing between a girl's legs and ruin her figure and fix it so she could never dance again.

But Mr. Hammel didn't seem to be trying to do that. His hands were caressing her now, running softly up and down her firm thighs, memorizing the gentle contours of her incipient breasts. His hand felt funny running over the tender new swelling behind her nipple. To her surprise, her tiny virginal nipples had risen to pebble-hard rigidity under the touch of his hand. She could feel an odd warm tingle inside her belly too as he kissed and nuzzled his way up and down it. She had never felt anything quite like it before. It felt good.

She decided just to lie back and let him do what he wanted, providing he didn't try to put his thing inside her. She closed her eyes and it was just like old Miss Jacques rubbing out a cramp.

Like hell it was. Ma'mselle Jacques had possessed a pair of arms like a wrestler and what the ballet bar couldn't tear loose she could. Mr. Hammel on the other hand was soft, smooth and gentle the way things always were in her dreams when she went home dead tired after six hours of practice and fell exhausted in her bed to dream of soft gentle hands soothing her tired body. His mouth and nose tickled a little bit on her belly but she didn't mind. It felt nice to feel a man's warm mouth go up and down, back and forth kissing the ache away.

Gradually she realized he wasn't kissing back and forth. Mr. Hammel seemed to have established a home base in her navel. From there he was kissing his way outward in ascending spirals that tickled her flanks, led nearly up her midriff to where the flesh was growing and swelling behind her nipples. But his nuzzling and kissing seemed to grow more intense each time he approached the bottom of one of his swings, approaching ever nearer the bare Sony prominence of her mons veneris.

Actually it wasn't bare. Down between her legs were a half dozen long coarse hairs and the outer surface of her crotch was already downy with the fuzz that within months would become a luxuriant mat of fur she would have to trim lest it create too much of a bulge inside her nearly transparent tights. Ted wondered if she should have trimmed those half dozen coarse hairs before this interview. But… how could she have known she was going to have to undress? She wondered why Momma or Mr. Sprague hadn't warned her.

Meanwhile it felt nice to he back naked on the couch and let Mr. Hammel kiss away. He wasn't doing her virginity any harm and he seemed to be enjoying it though she couldn't imagine why and if this was what it took to get the part well.

She tried to relax and ignore the tickle each time his mouth wandered away from her crotch to kiss her skittish flanks. It felt nice. Almost as nice as when he wandered upward to kiss the place where someday she would have tits. But it felt even nicer when he stayed down there to kiss the bony prominence of her crotch.

She felt a sudden scare when his hands pulled her knees apart but she was reassured when he made no effort to climb in between them. Instead he began kissing her legs, working slowly up one and down the other, kissing the tender inner surface of her thighs, working his way down to her knees and ankles, then back up to thigh again. From the way he dodged from thigh to belly and back again Ted gained a sudden suspicion. She had heard the older girls talk about it so she guessed such things actually happened. But she had never thought they would happen to her!