Ron Smith - Marina girls

"My pants down and everything! I hope nobody saw me," she muttered. The olive-skinned little beauty pulled her hair out of her eyes and struck out after the boat.

The sloop seemed to be lengthening the distance. When Peggy had first surfaced, it was only fifty feet away. Now it was more like fifty yards. The little boat yawed from side to side, both sails flapping. Every little way the Bluejay turned across the wind. The boom would fly across with a crash, the jib pulled it to a new heading, and the boat sailed in another direction.

Peggy compromised between the courses the boat hobbled along. She swam toward the point where she ought to meet it – if the wind didn't shift too badly. The twelve-year-old grew angry with herself. Daddy's gonna be so mad! If anything happens to that boat, he'll beat my butt. And it's my fault!

Peggy felt a humming vibration in the water. She kept swimming, plodding doggedly across the yacht basin. The pretty girl refused to turn her head as the humming grew. A hiss overlaid the base vibration with a metallic creaking sound, a shadow flashed over her.

"Ahoy, the swimmer! Need some help?"

Peggy looked up. A young man she'd seen working on, an old ocean racer set the little catamaran back down on both hulls.

"That's a hard way to catch a boat!" he shouted. The pastel-striped triangle of his sail flapped as he looped the boat around, coasting upwind.

"I'm finding that out," Peggy answered. She reached for the young man's hand as the cat stopped beside her. "Thank you. I could have chased that thing all day." Peggy clambered onto the canvas trampoline stretched between the hulls.

"It would have run aground or hit something by then." the young man looked sharply as Peggy sat up. The pink-brown rim of one nipple showed. The budding mounds of Peggy's titties had almost escaped the bikini top.

"I – I'm Peggy Gibson," she stammered. Peggy blushed. She pulled the little cloth triangles down to cover her bosoms.

The man's swim trunks showed a bulge that grew as he looked at her. She felt a lump in her throat and glanced back up at his face.

Peggy followed his gaze. The top of her little slit peeked over her panty! "C-could we go after my boat?" She quickly pulled up her waistband. As she moved on the canvas, the slender woman child realized something else.

My bottom was showing. too! What does he think? The blush spread from Peggy's cheeks and ears to the tops of her little breast-mounds.

"My name's Tom – Tom Sanders," the young man said when he found his tongue. "I tend bar at the club. I haven't seen you around here before." He was an average-looking man, in his middle twenties, with wavy brown hair and light eyes. His nose was a little bent, and he had a yachtsman's tan. He watched Peggy closely as he turned the catamaran around.

Peggy told him how she and her parents had come to vacation at the marina. She tried to sneak little looks at the cockbulge in his trunks as the swift catamaran flew after her unmanned Bluejay.

It's starting to get hard! I can almost see the end of it. Peggy's large brown eyes widened.

Tom smiled at the glances she tried to hide. There was a lewd gleam in Peggy's round eyes. She was obviously too innocent to realize it showed or to attempt to conceal it. He could tell when the slinky youngster was about to check his crotch just before she did it. Her pupils dilated every time.

Peggy sprawled back on her elbows. Tom knew she wanted to tempt him. The tiny orange bikini clung wetly to her mons, showed the swell of her labia. Even the tiny crevice between the lips of her pussy showed.

Tom's cock lengthened. Peggy spoke more slowly as the glands crept stiffly into view at the leg hole of his trunks.

When the tip of his cock was just visible, the catamaran caught up with the runaway sloop. "I – I guess I get off here," Peggy said tentatively. The moist heat in her pussy grew with each peek at the man's prick head. 'Thanks for the ride, Tom. I really like your boat." And I'd love to stay on it I want a closer look at that hard thing. I wonder what that stuff on the end is. I never saw anything like that in my life!

"It's not mine. My boss's son lets me use it sometime," Tom told her. "I could give you a tow back. My boat's just a little way from John Wood's." He waited for her answer, trying to look cool and disinterested. Damn, she looks like a hot little bitch. She's awful pretty, too. Her little butt looks so juicy and tender. I'd love to kiss the daylights out of her titties!

"Okay, Tom! I'd like that," Peggy smiled. "This catamaran is neat!"

"Good! Take the tiller and keep her pointed straight into the wind," Tom ordered. "Don't worry about drifting backwards."

Peggy watched him closely. She admired the way his muscles flexed when he pulled himself into her boat. The little brunette rubbed her pussy as she watched him over her shoulder. The quivery heat in her loins increased. Every move Tom made aroused the twelve-year-old. She wanted to touch him, get Tom's whole length against her olive skin.

Tom watched her from the corners of his eyes. He'd never seen a girl as young as Peggy who looked so sensuous. She looks hungry for cock, he thought. Probably has every kid in her school sniffing after her little ass. Every broad in this bay'll be jealous before she leaves.

Tom Sanders threw the sloop's bow line with controlled, silken precision. He didn't bother to hide his fiercely rampant erection when he boarded the catamaran.

Peggy's curiosity about the rigid tool still boiled in her guts. She felt a spasm of fear when he recklessly showed the cloth-shrouded rod. The orange bikini panties no longer showed the tender crevice of her cunny. Peggy was reserved when she told him, "Maybe I should put my boat away. I'll sail it into our space."

Tom ascribed the quick change of mood to the girl's youth. I have enough trouble understanding grown women. Who can figure out a kid? "Okay. Here, Peggy, pull the painter in like this, and you won't have to get wet again."

Peggy's hand was soft and cool when Tom steadied her step onto the Bluejay. He couldn't resist a quick, caressing squeeze.

The lovely young girl gave Tom an unsettling glance. He stooped to cast off the line, not knowing what her calm brown eyes sought. Tom tossed the quickly coiled cordage onto the sloop's foredeck at her feet.

"Which boat is yours, Tom?" Peggy held the mast of her little boat. Her hip-stance was erotic, deliberately posed. The swell of her cuntal vee curved subtly between her lightly defined hipbones. The white triangles of the sails flapped beside and behind her.

"It's the Sea Nymph-I'm in slip three-forty four." Tom raised his voice as the lovely child drifted backwards. She looked calm as a resting tigress. "Come on by. I'd love to show her to you."

"I might come over later," Peggy called. "Thanks for helping me!" Peggy slipped back to the cockpit and waved. The little sloop heeled over, commanded again, and a surge of wanting rose in Tom's throat.

Peggy spilled out the air from the sails. The little boat barely touched the edge of the dock. The girl popped out of the cock pit and tied up as her father had showed her.

Peggy was just about to step aboard the borrowed yacht. Her high-arched foot was in midair when she heard lewd moans coming from the cabin.

"Oh, Ed, please kiss my pussy again," her mother begged. Ruth Gibson's throaty contralto had an unfamiliar urgent pitch Peggy had never heard.

"Ruthie, honey! It's been years since we lasted so long," Ed Gibson answered. 'It's so gawdam good I'm gonna go crazy!"

"More, please, honey! I know I can make you cum again," Ruth pleaded.

"I haven't shot off three times in a day for fifteen years!" Ed's voice was a groan of amazed pleasure. "I don't know how you're doing this to me, but I love every second of it."