“I asked for small boats and you bought…this?” I asked with annoyance.
I was standing on the wooden pier on the south side of the island, looking at TITS newest attempt at morale boosting. Achara, the Thai administrator that had met me a few weeks ago, stood on the dock as well. She was annoyed by my reaction.
“The management didn’t like your request for drug boats,” Achara said.
“Drug boats? I asked for racing dingies…”
“Your requisition said 4/20.”
“Yes. An International 420. It’s the training boat they use for the Olympics for crying out loud…” I groaned.
“So we bought you something else instead. Make due with what you have,” Achara replied flatly before leaving.
It should be noted that Achara drove away in the Jeep that supposedly was mine, stranding me a fair distance from the main scientific compound on the island. Rather than trudge uphill for no real purpose, I chose to busy myself with my newest “toy”. The boat that TITS had purchased, then had shipped to the island was a twenty foot long daysailer that featured a red hull and a white interior. A single mast reached over twenty five feet into the air and a tiny, ancient, outboard engine hung over the transom. I wasn’t sure of the manufacturer of the boat, but it looked relatively solid at first glance. Seating capacity looked to be about six adults, maybe eight if all occupants were of smaller build. I couldn’t imagine the craft being very lively with that much weight onboard though.
My idea of hosting racing events for the island researchers had evaporated when only one of the four boats requested had been delivered. Now, all I could hope to do was set the boat up for pleasure cruising. I pulled the multiple sails out of the the hold and inventoried each piece of fabric on shore. Then I examined the lines and halyards (ropes) individually as well. Everything seemed to be in good order. There was no builders identification tag on the boat nor any markings that showed its place of origin, but I suspected that the boat had been built in the US or Europe sometime in the late 1980s and had been maintained well ever since.
I was fighting with the worn and troublesome Johnson 2 stroke outboard when a voice called out from the dock.
“Excuse me, sir?” a female voice requested.
I looked up from the engine to see a curvy redheaded woman standing on the wooden dock. She appeared to be in her late twenties and about 5′ 5″ or so. She had a couple extra pounds hanging on her frame, but she carried it well with a loose fitting white blouse and khaki shorts. The girl wore hiking boots and had two rolling suitcases within reach of her hands. Large sunglasses protected the girl’s eyes from the blazing afternoon sun. No amount of sunscreen could protect the girl’s freckles from the sunlight though, it seemed.
I had never seen this woman in my entire life. Was she new on the island? I have a thing for redheads. I’d certainly have recalled if we’d crossed paths.
“Are you the boat guy?” the girl asked in an Australian accent.
My hands were covered in grease and grime from the engine and I was standing in a sailboat that apparently was mine to manage. I guess I was the ‘boat guy’ now.
“I have a booking for three o’clock,” the redhead said.
“Yes. Weren’t you told?”
I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Achara said that you would be available to take me out on the boat this afternoon,” she continued.
“Take you out?”
Had the Thai lady tried to set me up with a hot redhead?
“Yes. I need a dive support boat for my tests. She said that you would be able to get me on location quickly.”
Nope. I was just the water taxi driver for the island now. No setup there, just another job title and demotion from my career high a year ago.
“I guess…where’s the location?”
“There is a reef nearby that I’m told should work,” the girl replied.
“Roger that. Let’s get your gear onboard and we will get going,” I beckoned.
A rainbow corona had appeared on the water aft of the boat. It seemed that the outboard, despite my ministrations, was inopperative and apparently leaked fuel. Fortunately, there was a decent breeze so the engine was merely decoration anyways.
“I’m Mike, by the way,” I greeted as the girl loaded her suitcases on the boat.
“Mike? Nice to meet you. My name is Sarah,” the woman replied.
Small talk ensued as I loaded a few supplies into the boat, then cast off. Sarah indicated that there were reefs all around the island, supposedly, and that there was one about a mile away that would work perfectly for her experiments. The Aussie was quite friendly and talkative as we sailed along. The wind was relatively relaxed at about twelve knots and the daysailer cruised along happily at about five knots.
As we passed a corner of the island, the boat was suddenly exposed to a stronger and slightly different directing wind than before. The craft jumped and increased speed to well over eights knots as the boat healed to one İstanbul Escort side. A rough gust of wind caused the boat to angle even deeper onto its side, nearly swamping the leeward rail. I braced my feet against the opposite seat and hauled back on the tiller, fighting to keep the boat pointed towards the little spot indicated on Sarah’s Garmin GPS.
Sarah, having been sitting beside me, let out a cry of surprise as she began to topple over in the boat. With one hand welded to the tiller, I reached out and grabbed onto her shoulder, keeping the girl from doing a face plant on the leeward seat. The redhead looked back at me and smiled in gratitude. She braced her feet on the opposite seat, like I had, but didn’t rush to remove my saving grasp. I eventually removed my hand, feeling a bit awkward.
“This should do nicely,” Sarah declared, having checked her GPS a few minutes later.
I turned the boat directly upwind, deployed the anchor, the doused canvas. The wind whistled through the rigging as Sarah busied herself with her equipment.
“Do you like lobster or fish?” Sarah called.
I was chest deep in the storage locker, trying to find my jug of fresh water when this odd question was posed.
“I’ll take a steak, rare and a side of au graten potatoes,” I chuckled in return.
“Uh huh. Not what I meant,” Sarah replied.
I found my water jug and returned to the aft cockpit. Two waterproofed laptops had been stationed on the seats. Also, Sarah’s suitcases were open, revealing two items that confounded me. Sure enough, there was a lobster sitting in one of the suitcases. In the other, there was something that looked like a small mahi mahi. The former was a dark red and had all the telltales of a fully grown lobster. The other was a greenish yellow tone, indicating a female of the species…or was it a male? Fishing was never my thing.
“What do ya think?” Sarah asked.
“Are we…are we going to eat these things? Or release them?” I asked, confused.
Sarah smiled mischiviously and typed a command into one of the laptops. Suddenly, the lobster became animated, jumping and bobbing in the suitcase before literally jumping to the deck and doing a crestacion version of a jig. Then, the big tailed, many legged creature began shuffling towards my feet. I…may have screamed like a little girl at this point.
Sarah laughed heavily at my reaction.
“Jesus Christ. You could have warned me…”
Sarah was visiting from her home in Melbourne, I was told. She was a marine biologist that had received a doctorate in electrical engineering and had been working with robotics for some time. The lobster and the mahi were both designed to aid in remote observations of marine ecosystems. Scuba diving was expensive and potentially dangerous. Also, there was a lower environmental impact when using the robots to snoop on coral reefs and such as opposed to actively diving on them.
These artfully designed robots, though expensive to manufacture, were on the forefront of robotics and artificial intelligence. A large, specially built, lithium ion battery pack dominated the inside of both vehicles and both had radio and acoustic control modules that interfaced with their respective laptops. Sarah went on to describe the AI that controlled the devices and gushed about how she had built the prototypes almost entirely on her own with almost no funding. I could see the rightfully deserved pride that the ginger had in her creations.
“Again, fish or lobster?”
“What, you want me to drive one of these?”
“Yes, I need to see if somebody that isn’t heavily versed in robotics can handle them. This is meant to be made for researchers in the field,” Sarah lectured.
“Oh…okay. Well, I’ll take the fish. You can keep that damn crab for yourself,” I stated, eyeing the offending device.
A few minutes later, the devices had been deployed overboard. As it turned out, piloting the fish via a video feed on the laptop wasn’t that different from playing a rather slow paced video game. Despite the relaxed speed, I enjoyed myself as the two robots were put through a series of maneuvers above and along the reef that lay about twenty feet below us. Sarah and I sat side by side, focused on our respective screens. It made sense that Sarah needed to see my screen, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice her proximity.
“I have a NASCAR fish now…” I stated.
“It’s stuck in a left turn. I can’t get it to respond,” I replied.
Sarah set her computer aside and focused on the one on my lap. Rather than take the device away from me though, the girl reached into my lap and began punching codes into a command line. This put her crimson hair in my face and had the woman basically on top of me. I could smell a tropical themed shampoo and a hint of perfume maybe? Or was I imagining things?
“Dammit, not again. We have to go get it,” Sarah said.
“What, in the water?”
“No, up in space. Of course in the water.”
I grumbled as I left my post and dug into the storage locker forward. Bayan Escort I procured a snorkel mask and offered it to Sarah.
“I have to stay up here. It’s up to you to catch the fish,” Sarah said.
“How do I turn it off once I catch it?” I asked.
“The power switch is in the fish’s cloaca.”
“Cloaca,” I repeated.
“Yes. The fish’s…well, it’s arse hole.”
I couldn’t help it, my mouth blurted before my brain thought otherwise.
“So if I wanted to turn it back on, I’d have to finger its butthole?” I quipped.
Sarah looked at me with surprise. Had I gone too far in joking with this stranger?
“You could. But I’d recommend buying it dinner first, at least,” Sarah snickered.
I hadn’t expected a comeback. A bit flustered, I deployed a ladder over the stern. I then stripped my t-shirt off (exposing a farmer’s tan visible for miles) and jumped overboard. Once in the ocean, I spat in my mask, rubbing the spit across the lenses and donned the rig.
With the mask on, I could clearly see the ocean floor twenty feet down as visibility in the clean water was amazing. A rough lava rock formation spread across the bottom and fish swam everywhere. The clicks and pops of shrimp and the rush of water filled my ears. In a way, it was peaceful. In a way, the experience was unnerving as I could also see the shadows of barracudas trolling along the seafloor a fair distance away.
The robotic lobster was somewhere among the rocks below me, I assumed. The mahi was much closer. The device was still stuck in a lazy turn to the left while maintaining about five feet below the gentle waves on the surface. I positioned myself in its presumed path, waiting patiently. After a minute or so, the fish came within reach. After a deep breath, I dived below and just barely managed to intercept the errant robot. The fish was still swimming along as I grabbed onto its tail and I was dragged for a few yards before I could find the off switch hidden in the fish’s poo shoot. With the robot unpowered, I returned to the surface and breathed deeply.
Life had taken some odd turns for me in the past few weeks, for sure.
“Nice work,” Sarah declared in her accent as I approached the boarding ladder a few minutes later.
“Yah yah, you owe me,” I replied from the water.
I handed the relatively heavy robotic fish up to Sarah. Gingerly she set the device in its cradled suitcase, then turned back towards me as I clambered up the boarding ladder.
“Oi! What are you doing?” Sarah laughed.
“Getting back in the boat…?”
Much to my surprise, Sarah cackled, then shoved me mightily on my shoulder. Caught off guard, I toppled backward, tripped over the transom and fell into the ocean. My back flop was quite loud.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Sarah apologized with a smile.
I returned to the boarding ladder. The redhead extended her hand to help me back into the cockpit. I reached out and took the hand…then yanked savagely. Sarah toppled overboard and crashed into the ocean beside me.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” I snickered.
Sarah looked startled, for sure. I had trunks on. She, however, was still dressed in the white blouse and shorts.
“You sir, are a bastard if I ever met one,” the redhead stated after spitting seawater out of her mouth.
“That’s what makes me so fun,” I replied as I backstroked away from the boat.
Sarah removed her waterlogged boots and chunked them into the cockpit. Then she swam in my direction with a determined look on her face.
I guess I had expected more of a buildup or maybe more warning before Sarah swam up to me and pulled me into a floating embrace. Once within reach, she took the lead and kissed me on the lips. Mixed with salt, I tasted the girl’s lip balm.
“Was that not what you wanted all along?” Sarah asked, pulling away for a moment.
“Oh it was, is. Just unexpected, that’s all-” I started before being silenced by a kiss again.
We made out like this, in the water, for some time. The current was minimal so we were only a few yards away from the sailboat when one of my hands reached beneath the surface and grasped a healthy piece of ass. Sarah inhaled through her nose deeply, then reached a hand of her own down and brushed the front of my shorts, rubbing on the bulge of my rapidly expanding manhood.
Then the woman pushed me away and swam towards the boat. A bit let down, I followed in her wake.
Once alongside the boat, Sarah turned around and winked at me. Then she was treading water while unbuttoning her shirt. The stretch of white material was pealed off, then thrown in the boat. Next the khaki shorts were shimmied off and deposited in the cockpit. I held my breath for a moment, wondering what would happen next.
“Well come on then mate. Help me get the rest off already,” Sarah beckoned.
Quickly, I swam up to the woman, happy to aid in the removal of her garments. A beige colored bra was unclipped, then stripped off, then thrown in the boat. Finally, Sarah shimmied her orange brief Eskort styled panties off and chunked them into the cockpit.
“Your turn,” Sarah said.
I was staring at the ocean, trying to get a glimpse of the girl’s breasts but the angle wasn’t great. I shrugged that idea away and pulled my trunks off as well. With a wet flop, the pants were deposited in the boat. Now, we were both naked, separated by only a few feet. Sarah eyed me with only a hint of apprehension before swimming up to me and kissing me again. Our bodies met. I could feel large and well formed nipples brushing into my chest and felt thighs wrapping around my waist.
I could taste salt and coconut flavored lip balm as Sarah kissed me, hard, again. My now fully erect penis was bumping against the front of the woman’s pelvic region. It would only take a bit of aquatic maneuvering to send the organ someplace warmer.
Finally, I paused a bit. What was I doing? I didn’t know this woman in the slightest. She was beautiful and playful and everything else. But still…
“Worried about not having a franger?” Sarah asked.
“A franger. You know, a rubber for your stiffy.”
Sarah’s accent seemed to have become a bit stronger.
“Don’t worry mate. I’m on the pill, I swear. I don’t want any ankle biters for years,” Sarah stated.
That was reassuring.
“So are we going to have a naughty or not?” the woman asked, impatient.
My answer was to reach down and run a hand along the woman’s front. I brushed past a light coating of pubic hair and found a lovely opening for me to reach. When my fingers grazed over her clit, Sarah jolted a bit in the ocean, smiling. The maneuvering was difficult to achieve while treading water, but I eventually pulled myself up high enough to put the tip of my penis on her vaginal opening, then thrust upward. For the first time in over a year, I felt the warming embrace of a woman around my cock. I held my breath and leaned back, dunking my head below the water as I thrust upwards. I drove a bit deeper into the woman, but fell out of her love opening when I surfaced for air.
“I’ve always wanted to do this, me whole life,” Sarah said.
I was eager to please her as I lined up for another penetration. With my tip just below her clit, I took a deep breath and leaned back again. This time, I went really deep. But again, I had to surface for air after a few difficult strokes. I choked on seawater for a moment, struggling to get enough oxygen.
Ocean sex was going to drown me if I wasn’t careful.
“But bugger all if it’s not hard. C’mon, let’s get on the boat,” Sarah admitted and suggested.
We had drifted about fifteen yards away from the sailboat. Sarah led the way, swimming back to the boat. Her white butt cheeks occasionally broke the surface as she made her way towards the ladder. A full view of her gorgeous ass came when she climbed up the ladder.
With us both back on the boat, a makeout session resumed. Soon, Sarah was laying on her back on the padded seat and I was on top of her. Our tongues met and danced with each other. I broke the kiss and began kissing my way around the girl’s neck, then on to her chest. Salt filled my mouth but I cared not as my lips found a nipple and I began gently sucking. Sarah sighed happily. Her hands, previously stationed on my back, slipped downward to my ass. Then one wrapped around and below, searching for more intimate areas.
I sighed happily as the hand grasped onto my manhood and began stroking slowly. Unfortunately, it was obvious that there was resistance. Seawater wasn’t the best lube, it would seem.
“Hold on, I have an idea,” Sarah declared.
The woman nudged me to one side and retrieved the water jug from earlier. She took a swig, then spat it overboard. Then she poured a bit on her nipples, then shivered a bit as she rinsed her pussy off. I watched as glistening clean water passed over a tuft of red pubic hair and luscious lips before draining onto the cockpit floor. Her cleaning complete, Sarah passed the jug to me, obviously suggesting I do the same. I rinsed the salt out of my mouth and off my genitals, feeling a bit better instantly.
“Now come here,” Sarah beckoned.
The makeout resumed. This time, there wasn’t salt everywhere and things were easier as I ran my tongue in and and about her mouth. Then I parted the kiss and resumed sucking on a breast. I used one hand to support myself and used the other to caress the unoccupied nipple. Sarah moaned happily. She snaked a hand out and grasped onto my cock again, squeezing and teasing the organ. It felt amazing, but it was obvious that I wasn’t very slippery. I could only hope that Sarah was sufficiently wet inside her vagina. The low moans resulting from the nipple attention indicated that that would be the least of my worries though.
“Switch with me,” Sarah directed.
I didn’t question the order as I lay down on the seat. Sarah lay on top of me, rubbing her front onto my cock, grinding as a tease. We kissed passionately for a bit, then the girl began kissing my neck. Then her lips trailed to my chest. She backed up a bit more, working her way down my stomach until the kisses had reached my waistline. The woman looked up at me, brushing a mop of wet, red hair out of her eyes.