Tina's struggles were mostly for show. She'd been quite cooperative (though a little nervous-looking) as the midshipmen had stripped off her sweatshirt and faded jeans, folding them neatly onto the pier beside her. She'd stepped out of her panties and shrugged off her bra, accepting the smattering of applause from the audience with equanimity.

She'd climbed onto the pinewood bench when so ordered, and reclined on its surface, tilted like a drafting table. Blushing a little, she had lifted her legs to be bound by her chest with thick white nylon rope, drawing another round of light applause from the folding chairs as her orifices were exposed to the crowd. A couple of the middies had bent down to kiss her before walking off the pier--kisses she had returned warmly and eagerly.

Only her wide blue-gray eyes had moved as Emily approached the bench with her clipboard. Pushing her dark shoulder-length hair behind one ear, Emily leaned down and checked Tina's bonds, checking the ropes for tension--not too much, not too little-- scrutinizing each knot, jotting notes onto her clipboard. Finishing her inspection, she leaned over and kissed Tina on the forehead, and, grinning, dealt her a smart crack on the ass with her clipboard. Only at the sound of that did Tina come to life, twisting and writhing against her bonds, moaning and biting her lower lip.

The sun was high and bright. Its heat was a palpable pressure on the backs of our necks. A cool wind blew in off the sea. The larger waves were raising enough spray that I could feel a hint of it on my face.

I remembered when Emily first suggested I come with her to Nantahack Island. It was one of our gloriously unsuccessful attempts at a dinner date. She'd come over to my apartment at 6 to pick out a restaurant. At 9 we hadn't made it out of the apartment.

Ravenously hungry and nude, I was heating oil and chopping ginger to make us some fried rice while I made a series of bizarre faces attempting to work the stiffness out of my sore lower jaw. Emily was in the bathroom dabbing gingerly at her asshole with a damp washcloth.

"So I'm gonna be going to Nantahack for the next couple weeks," she called from the bathroom.

"You mentioned that," I replied. "That's that island where your family has the house, right?"

"Yeah. It's a very special place. I had some pretty amazing experiences there.

"Like what?"

She came into the kitchen, wearing a tee-shirt. Her dark glossy pubes played peek-a-boo between her pale thighs as she strode over to the counter. "Want to come?"

I turned around and slid my hands from her hips to her waist, bunching the fabric of her shirt under her breasts. "I alre--" I began.

"You already came," she recited, grinning. "Ba-dum-bum chsh! You want to come to Nantahack with me?"

I threw ginger and garlic into the pan and rummaged in the fridge for more ingredients. "Well, I am between contracts this month... What would we do there?"

"Oh, it's really easygoing," she assured me. "We'd read, swim, make love, play boardgames, toss a frisbee, fuck, sail, have picnics, screw..."

"Does the place have broadband?" I asked.

"Vinnie, it doesn't have a phone!"

"Phone, schmone. Email is my oxygen."

"Email is your heroin. Time away from that box'll do you some good. After all, it'll leave you more energy to devote to pleasuring your sex goddess hostess!" She struck a pose.

"That reminds me--we'd be going with your parents, right?"

"Yeah, it's their place."

"Is the house so big that we'd have enough privacy?" I asked skeptically.

"Is that pastrami you're dicing?" Emily asked.

"Yeah," I admitted. "You never had pastrami fried rice before? Traditional sino-semitic dish. Hey! No goosing the chef, he has a very sharp knife."

Emily approached the microphone and spoke into it. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing. After a brief consultation with a middie, she gave up and attempted to raise her voice over the sound of the surf.

"Well... e....ud.. .. ay oar .. ... ot .... ub... sex see..."

I've been accused of selective hearing from time to time, but this was a bit much. "Speak up!" someone shouted off to my left. Thank god--it's not just me. "Speak up!" I joined the call.

Emily tried again. "WELCOME, EVERYBODY, TO DAY FOUR OF THE YACHT CLUB PUBLIC SEX SERIES."

I caught her eye and gave her the thumbs-up. She nodded slightly.

"THIS IS MY SISTER TINA'S FIRST PERFORMANCE," she continued, "FOR HER CO-STAR, SHE HAS SELECTED..."

Showing an unexpected flair for showmanship, Emily paused dramatically. I noticed a couple male middies in the wings punching each other on the arm in friendly rivalry."

"...OUR SUMMER HOUSEGUEST, VINNIE TESLA," she gestured to me. "Vinnie, come up, please."

Yipe.

I stood, madly self-conscious, and stuffed my xeroxed program book into one pocket of my shorts. The audience was smiling and clapping, apparently oblivious to my look of stark terror. As I edged out of my aisle, Mrs. Upham goosed me, hard. Reluctantly, I walked down the pier, trying desperately not to trip over my own feet. What happened to that goddamned breeze? The day seemed to have become ten degrees hotter. I felt beads of sweat trickling down my ribcage as I walked. Did I remember to put on deodorant this morning? God, I hope so.

Emily's warm, welcoming smile made me feel a little better. She took my hands in her slender, callused ones and kissed me on the cheek, granting me a glimpse down the open collar of her crimson polo shirt at the darkly-tanned gentle swells within. Funny how her breasts, which I've seen so often, still inspire that furtive glance when clothed.

Two days before the trip, I was packing, while Emily checked her e-mail on my computer.

Afterwards, she showed me the location of the island on a map.

"There's nothing there," I objected. "That's just ocean."

"Well, it's a pretty small island."

"There's a lot of small islands on this map! Nantahack doesn't appear to be there at all."

"Well, it's all privately owned, and it's not too well known. So people try to be discreet about it."

"That's pretty discreet," I admitted.

"I should warn you," she said cautiously, "Nantahack is a very... distinct culture." She trailed off.

"Insular?" I suggested. "Snobby?"

"No, no!" she insisted. "They're very friendly, very welcoming. But the people there, they have their own ways, y'know?"

"Hey," I assured her, "I can be tactful. I'll try not to offend anybody."

"Oh, that's not it--I'm more worried that they might offend you."

"Emily," I laughed, "I'm not easy to offend."

"Congratulations," Emily said.

"Um, thanks, I answered uncertainly. "What's the... what's the deal? What am I supposed to do?"

"You fuck her."

I glanced at Tina, lying trussed beside us, watching our conversation with wide eyes, as she writhed against her bonds. "I just...go up and slip it in?"

"Oh, Vinnie, you know better. You've got to make it a show! Torture her for a while first, tease her. Make the little bitch scream. You're good! That's why you're here."

"Em, sweetie. Thank you." I paused to collect my thoughts. "But...I'm not used to an audience. Just 'cause I know how to spank you doesn't make me P. T. Barnum, y'know?" I glanced at said spectators, aware of the limited entertainment value of two people standing around whispering furiously at each other, even in the company of a bound and naked teenager. They gazed back with polite patience. I can report that the polite and patient gaze of a hundred or so perverted prosperous preppies is a unique and memorable experience which I do not recommend.

"Oh, hon. Don't worry about the audience--just be yourself." I still looked uncertain. "Look, you need a fluffer to get you started?"

I started to object indignantly that I certainly didn't, when I realized that this would in effect be turning down a blowjob from the insanely talented Emily, an offence I had long ago sworn to myself I would never commit. "I dunno--you volunteering?"

"I'm here to help," she smiled, and kneeled in front of me.

In a twinkling, she had me unzipped, and my shorts were around my knees. My poor confused cock, unsure whether to stand up, lie down, or just stalk off in disgust at the whole proceeding, was thickened but still soft. It perked up, though, when Emily wrapped her slender fingers around it and grinned up at me. She ran her pointed little tongue along the underside, never taking her eyes off me, and by the time her lips closed over the head I was fully erect.

She drove us to meet her family at the ferry. On the trip down, she told me a little more about Nantahack culture.

The main thing for the younger people, she explained, is the Yacht Club (she was wearing a red polo shirt I hadn't seen before with "NANTAHACK YACHT CLUB" printed on the back). By younger she meant high school to college age. Her sister would be starting in the club this summer, where Emily was pretty much a member emeritus at this point.

"And you guys do sailing."

She hesitated. "Yes...we do."

"What kind of sailing?" I asked foolishly.

"Well, mostly what we have is blah blah blah blah blah catamarans," I recall her answering. "We also have a few blah blah blah blah blah blah, and a fourteen foot blah blah. Blah blah blah blah, except for blah blah blah blah blah, which is blah blah blah blah blah, y'know?"

With an effort, I unglazed my eyes, and admitted that my sailing erudition is limited.

"The Yacht Club is also a social center," she explained. "Members and their friends hang there during the day, and they host a lot of events we'll probably be going to."

"What, movie nights, stuff like that?"

"And other things."

Emily shuffled a little to one side with my cock in her mouth, turning my hips with her hands. I realized after a moment that she was angling to give our audience a better view. I tried to put that out of my mind and concentrate on the sensation of what my girlfriend was doing to me. And she was making that task extremely easy. As she skillfully massaged my shaft with her hand, her tongue was dancing along the underside of the head. Soon the teasing sensation was overwhelming, and I began to work my hips.

She drew back, and watched my rigid prick bob, glistening with her saliva in the late morning sun. Then she took me in her mouth again, and began to bob her head as she sucked, the exquisite moist heat of her mouth creeping down the shaft of my prick. Soon the head was pressed against the back of her throat. She paused there for a moment, breathing audibly through her nose. A gull swooped nearby, calling harshly. Someone in the audience sneezed.

Then she advanced again, my cock bending down into her throat, her hot lips advancing along my length, until her lower lip was against my scrotum. She paused there again, before quickly withdrawing and gasping through her mouth as her hand took over pumping my cock. A round of vigorous applause came from our audience. She waited for it to die down before wiping off her lower lip and taking me into her mouth again.

The Uphams were at the pier, in animated conversation with other islanders as they waited for the ferry. As we got out of the car and started to shake out our sore legs, Tina squealed, "Vinnie!" and pounced, almost bowling me over. Tina has her mother's blond hair and curvy figure, combined with a ludicrous surplus of energy. Hugging her had the pillowy chaos of attempting to carry a futon single-handed.

I got a more restrained hug from Emily's mom, and a more-than-perfunctory kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad you could come, Vinnie. I think you're going to love Nantahack."

Mr. Upham and I did that awkward hug? handshake? hug thing guys often end up doing among huggy women.

Now she began to bob her head, with a steady rhythm, one hand gripping the base of my prick, the other wrapped around my trembling knees, each stroke like a bungee jump--starting out quickly, then straining for the last few millimeters before springing back. I threw my head back and groaned as my hands clenched on her slender shoulders.

"Fuhf mah mouhf," she said. I knew what she liked. I gripped her hair in one hand, and pulled her mouth off my dick.

"What's that, Emily?" I asked mildly.

"I said, fuck my mouth, Vinnie," she enunciated.

"Speak up, the audience can't hear you," I urged her.

"I want you to fuck my mouth, Vinnie," she repeated more loudly. "I want to feel your cock pressing against the back of my throat."

"My pleasure," I answered, and roughly pulled her head to the underside of my straining cock. She whimpered with pleasure and licked eagerly at my tight balls. I pressed my erection down to rub its sheen of thick saliva on her face and her eyebrows knit in concentration as her lips went slack.

On the ferry, I sat on the front of the deck, feeling the spray hit my face. Like most of the islanders, Emily was wandering around, catching up with friends she hadn't seen since last summer. I'd tried to tag along at first, but after feeling like a fifth wheel for half an hour, I moseyed off and watched the proceedings from the railing.

It was a very clean-cut, waspy crowd--a lot of baseball caps (or sailing caps? I can never remember the difference), a lot of Birkenstocks. Lots of people in the white, blue, or red Yacht Club polo shirts. People weren't staring at me or anything, but your Slavic-Italian correspondent was feeling a little out-of-place.

As I watched, I theorized that the colors of the club shirts had some significance. I noticed that Emily was primarily mixing with other reds, and that the white and blues congregated similarly.

Eventually Emily came over and sat by me. She explained that the white shirts were the most junior members--generally called the "men," short for crewmen, regardless of gender. "Or seamen?" I asked. She ignored it.

The blue shirts were the midshipmen, and the red shirts were officers. "That's a lot of hierarchy," I noted. "Do you have hazing rituals?"

"You could say that," she admitted.

As we watched, the segregation started to break down. Little knots of blue shirts--middies, I guess--were cornering flushed, darting-eyed white shirts. As they talked, they lightly touched their faces, their throats, their waists. Conversation among the un-uniformed passengers slackened as people turned to watch the exchanges.

The mainland faded into invisibility at the horizon. A whistle sounded. I felt Emily's warm hand on the bare skin of my thigh.

Two blond middie girls had a blushing wavy-haired boy a couple inches shorter than they pinned against the railing. One of them grabbed him around the waist and locked him in a heated french kiss. When she released him, the other did the same. Their hands met in the front of his bermuda shorts, and they giggled as they felt his obvious erection. They said something to him, and without a word, he slowly turned around and gripped the railing. Their bare-handed spanks on on his canvas-covered ass can't have stung much--I imagine his yelps were more from the humiliation as anything else.

Further along the rail, a curvy brunette in a white shirt knelt between the legs of a boy who looked like a lifeguard. She mouthed the bulge in his shorts as he gripped her short hair and ground her flushed face against his groin.

Older couples and un-uniformed teens were mostly sitting and watching. Occasionally one would point out a particularly surprising or piquant combination as the action progressed.

I guided the swollen dark head of my prick to Emily's lips and slipped inside. She tried to surge forward, but I was ready for her, and jerked her hair back, teasing both of us, allowing just the head into her mouth. She looked up plaintively at me and I grinned back, the feeling of power all the more gratifying for always being so temporary when it comes to Emily.

Finally I began working her head down onto my prick. She swallowed me eagerly. I tugged at her hair again, and pulled her back. Soon I was working her face up and down on me rapidly, her body responding to my cues. One of her hands was buried in her shorts, the other had my knees in a death grip. I was groaning loudly now as my crisis neared.

"So the entire island is some sort of kinky sex-fiend secret society?" I asked.

"I...I guess you could put it that way," Emily admitted.

"That's so cool!" I exclaimed. "Do you have a secret handshake?"

"Of course not, Vinnie. We just...know each other, mostly."

"But how--" Emily interrupted me. "Hey, hey, you know the rules!" she barked to a pair of middies with a girl lying across their laps. The seated girl was alternating massaging her victim's crotch with the heel of her palm and administering sharp slaps to the girl's slender thighs. The boy had her white shirt around her neck and was lapping at one of her taut little brown nipples. When he heard Emily's voice, he immediately jerked his head back and pulled the girl's shirt down. All three of them looked at her sheepishly.

"No skin till we get to the island," Emily said sternly.

"Sorry, sir," said the boy.

Emily turned her attention back to me. "I was asking how you keep it a secret," I said. "If all these prominent citizens from around the area come here, it's gotta be pretty dangerous for their reputations."

"Nah, you just gotta have common sense. And keep your eye out for idiots, of course," she added, jerking her head toward the guy she had scolded. "We're careful about our off-Island sexual partners--"

"Thank you. Um, that was a compliment, right?"

"It certainly was, sexy boy."

"Island people don't buy their equipment in the downtown sex shop of course," she continued, "you have to know the catalogs to order from."

"Good Vibrations, Grand Opening?" I suggested.

"L.L. Bean, REI," she corrected me. "You'd be surprised what you can do with rock climbing equipment and a little ingenuity. And Good Vibes doesn't offer monogramming."

"I guess not," I admitted.

Theatrically loud throat-clearing came from the table beside us. With an effort, I refocused my eyes, and found that Tina was glaring at us as best she could in her recumbent position. I pulled Emily off my dick. "Oh, god, Vinnie. That's so..." she started.

"I don't think Tina's happy,' I interrupted her.

Emily looked over and grinned embarrassedly at her sister, then rose to her feet. "Guess we got a little carried away," she admitted. Her chin was still glistening.

"I think you're about ready," she continued. "Lube and toys are under the bench."

She bent down to pick up her clipboard. "But I--" I objected.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Vinnie Tesla!" she shouted, smacked my bare ass with her clipboard, and strode off the pier.

So there I was, shorts around my knees, willy waving in the breeze. I looked at the spectators, and remembered the old trick for public speakers--imagine your audience naked. This was made easier for me by the fact that many of the men had their dicks out and they or their mates were slowly stroking them. Many of the women had a hand or two inside their pants, and a couple in the first row had their skirts hiked in a manner that appeared as much for my benefit as their own.

"Where's Tina?" I suddenly wondered.

"Over there, necking with Jim and Margaret Christenson," Emily said. "She likes those older guys," and winked.

So she was. Seated between a couple in their thirties, undulating slowly in pleasure as they lapped at her neck and squeezed her heavy breasts through her tee shirt.

"She's not a yacht club person?"

"This'll be her first year," Emily explained.

I glanced over at her parents, who were talking merrily with another couple. Mrs. Upham noticed me looking around, and came over to the bow, stepping over the occasional writhing limb to reach us.

"Has Emily been telling you all about the local customs?" she asked.

"Well, it seems like there's a lot to learn," I said cautiously. "You seem to have a really extraordinary community here."

"Oh, don't worry about it too much! You'll pick up the culture as you go along. Everyone's very friendly. And if you have any questions, I'd be delighted to help you out myself."

She rejoined her husband and friends, leaving me and Emily once again alone. "Dear lord," I said, "Was that a--"

"There it is!" Emily shouted, pointing at a faint shape on the horizon ahead, "Nantahack Island!"

I looked back at Tina. She looked ripe, delectable, and still distinctly annoyed. I looked over at Emily, standing on the wings, among the midshipmen. She gave me a merry thumbs-up. I retaliated with the Look of Death. When she failed to keel over on the spot, I realized that I needed to come up with a plan of action, and soon.

My first instinct was to pull up my shorts, but that seemed kind of silly if I was there to have sex. I tugged them off, and, 'cause there's nothing goofier than a guy in a shirt and no pants, removed my tee-shirt as well. I was about to take off my sandals, when I decided the pier looked a little to splintery.

To my surprise, once I was naked, I felt more, rather than less self-confident. I ran a hand through my hair, and strolled over to where Tina was waiting for me. I looked down at her, and we smiled at each other, with challenge in both our eyes.

"You look pretty pleased with yourself," I said. "You and Emily really set me up."

"You gonna punish me?" she teased.

"As a matter of fact, I am," I answered.


 
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