Au Naturel, an erotic lesbian romance

I know you won’t believe me. But it did happen. At least, I think it did. To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure anymore.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning.

After my wife died, I bought a boat and have been living on it ever since. I wanted to avoid people and the boat seemed like a good way to do that. I like the solitude.

And every year, from late Fall to early Spring I pretty much had the marina to myself, except for a few other live-boards who also make the marina their year-around home too.

But starting in May, boating season hits. People everywhere. They show up in droves. Fair-weather sailors, sport fishermen, drunken crabbers, weekend boaters, and loud children running up and down the docks.

That year it started early with the low rumble of a diesel engine.

-- -- -- -- --

“6 am! Who the hell docks their boat at 6am?”

I peered out my starboard window. A sailboat, looked to be a ketch about 42 feet long, was pulling up to the slip next to me. I might have taken notice of how beautiful it was, except I was grumpy, hadn’t slept all night, and was just nodding off when they arrived.

At any other hour I would have gotten up and helped them land, but damn it, not today. I rolled over trying to get back to sleep, but my new neighbors didn’t seem to care.

“How’z it look, hon?” a man yelled.

A woman answered. “You’re doing fine, babe.”

“Better hang a couple fenders on the other side, we don’t want to bump that boat next to us.”

“On it.”

“Okay, we’re coming in. Watch my bow. Good thing there’s no cross wind, I hate these leeward slips, but this is the only one they had left.”

“You’re looking good... A bit slower... Cuddle up close... There, I’ve roped the cleat.”

I heard a thump as she jumped off and secured boat.

The engine stopped but they kept talking and making noise for the next hour and eventually walked off.

But by then I was fully awake.

“Damn it. No use trying to sleep now.” I got dressed and headed off for breakfast.

I didn’t think about it at the time, but I remember walking down the dock to a weird sort of silence. The seagulls were on the breakwater as usual, but none were calling and the sky was empty.

A flyer on my windshield said ‘please move your car to the overflow lot before 6pm today. We’re having our Annual Boating Season party here.’

I could see they were already building a stage.

“Damn, I hate May 1st.”

-- -- -- -- --

Marcy, the owner/waitress of her little 5 table cafe smiled. “You’re here early.’

“Yeah, well I’m probably going to come back for lunch and dinner too.”

She laughed. “Hiding out in town, eh? The marina getting a little too full for ya? You know if you keep this up every year you’re going to turn into a lonely, grumpy old man.”

“But Marcy, I’ve got you and your fine cooking. What else could a man want?”

“If I was 20 years younger I just might take you up on that... So, you want the usual?”

-- -- -- -- --

It was nearly sunset when I got back. The lot was thick with people. Country music blared from the stage. Three large barrel-shaped barbecues, one with steak, one with salmon, and a third with hot dogs, flavored the air.

I had to admit it smelled pretty good. I spotted the beer kegs, turned, stepped on someones foot, and knocked a cup out of her hand dumping beer on the ground.

“Ow! That hurt.”

“Sorry,” I said bending down to retrieve her cup.

What I saw as I rose nearly knocked the wind out of me. My eyes scanned her body as I stood.

Long, slightly muscular legs, with tiny, barely visible blond hairs, red running shorts, a white t-shirt tied at the waste revealing a firm slender belly, nipples pushing hard against the fabric.

Standing now, we locked eyes. My god. Wide pupils surrounded by deep brown, her eyes glinted as if in perpetual laugh, dark eyebrows and shoulder length blonde hair. Her entire body perfectly tanned.

“So-sorry,” I stuttered. “I didn’t see you.”

She smiled back with those wonderful laughing eyes. “Well, you can make up for it by getting me another beer.”

Winding our way through the crowd we had to squeeze between people, forcing us together; sometimes her breasts against my back, others me behind her trying my best not to press against her bottom.

It felt awkward, this intimacy between strangers, but she didn’t seemed to mind at all.

She shouted over the din. “Well, since we seem to be pressed so tightly together, I suppose we should at least know each other’s names. I’m Laura.”

“Jim,” I said.

Our beers in hand, we worked our way back out and sat on a log looking out over the marina.

“I love it here,” I said.

“When did you get in?” she asked.

“Oh, no. I live here year-around.”

“On you boat?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot quieter in t...