WET DREAM**
WET DREAM
**
by Brad Millar
(While the events in Wet Dream didn't occur exactly as they are related in the story, they are based on real events and real people. The difference is that they occurred under different circumstances. I would appreciate your comments and can be contacted at milarky@mindspring.com.
The four of us have been "yachties" in the bay for a long time. Anne and I sail I, Blythe Spirit, a 37-foot cutter. Jim and Teri have a 41-foot ketch they call Luv Bote. We often spend our weekends rafted together at Acala Cove or some other fairly secluded on Angel Island or the Tiberon Peninsula. As soon as we are securely anchored and rafted, the "cocktail" pennant is hoisted and we adjourn to Luv Bote's salon.
Whenever we have a three or four day weekend we sail up to a cove near Drake's Bay near Point Reyes. We found the cove while hiking in the Point Reyes headlands. It is accessible only by sea and by the few hikers who make it to the camp site a mile or so away. Few boaters seem to know about our cove because we are always alone there, unless we bring some landlubber friends. The nights are often pretty cold, but the days are warm and sunny and it is quite nice for sunbathing.
The last time we were there, we put out fishing lines and crab pots to catch our evening meal and shucked our clothes to catch some rays. Once the sun was over the yardarm, we enjoyed gin and tonic all around.
We swam ashore to lie on the beach an pick blackberries in the hills above the cove. The crop was particularly good -- loads of large, sweet fruit and only the birds to eat them. We had brought an old, crank-style ice cream maker, along with cream and sugar for makings and rum for added flavor and zest. We made a large batch of rum swizzles to drink while Jim and I cranked the ice-cream.
Anne and Teri took their drinks up the fore peak to bask in the sun and get sloshed. Teri spilled some of her drink onto her breasts and Anne licked it off them. Teri squealed and spilled some more on her tummy. Of course, Anne moved down to recover that spill also, taking especial care with Teri's belly button. When Anne move down to clean Teri's pubic bush Teri reached over to fondle Anne's hairless mons.
Watching this brought my cock to attention and Jim reached over to stroke it. By now, the ice-cream was done, so we left it in the cockpit to cure and went forward to watch the women more closely. Teri and Anne were so engrossed in their soisant-neuf that they didn't even notice us until they came up for air after they had orgasms.
They finally saw us stroking each others cocks and suggested that we join them in their fun. They made room for us to lie between them on the mat and pulled us down by our love handles. Anne started sucking Jim while Teri rubbed her pussy against my face and licked my cock and balls. After a bit, they eased our cocks into their cunts and held each other as they slowly raised and lowered themselves over us. When we were almost ready to come, they suddenly pulled away and told us it was time for us to put on a show for them.
By then I was so turned on that I quickly grabbed Jim's huge chocolate bar and started gobbling. Jim was just about as eager, so he started sucking me almost as fast. When we came after a few minutes, Anne and Teri were sitting with legs akimbo, stroking their clits vigorously. They seemed to come within seconds of us.
We all rested on the mats for a while, then decided that it was time for some nourishment if we were to keep up the pace. Our crab pots yielded five really nice Dungeness crabs to go with the fish we had caught earlier. We put a pot of water on to boil the crabs, fired up the grill on the fantail to broil the fish. We soon had a tasty meal of seafood, sliced tomatoes, and blackberry ice-cream.
By the time we had finished eating and cleaned up, it was getting dark and cooling off so we adjourned to the warmth of Luv Bote's cabin to continue our festivities. The rest and a hearty meal had given us new vigor, and there was a little ice-cream left and some champagne to enhance the fun.
©1991 Brad Millar