Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿Return to St.  George byHStonerÂ(C)

   This is a sequel to my previous story "Welcome to St.  George" and
reading that story will help put this story in context.

   _________________________________________________________________

   There had been changes on our island.  The most devastating change for
me was that Sara had left.  Her father had suffered a severe stroke about a
year earlier.  She had gone to San Diego to take care of him and had
"fallen" (her word) into running the family real estate business.  We
talked by phone periodically and Sara assured me that she would,
eventually, return to St.  George.  After about nine months, I realized
that wasn't going to happen.  The house and my life were very empty without
her.

   Stacy Maxwell had first come to the island when the father of her
college friend Joanne Long had bought a house not far from ours on the west
side of the island.  Stacy, Joanne, and their friends had used the house
before Art Long did.  Sara had encouraged a relationship between Stacy and
me and she and Stacy formed a relationship.  Stacy had come back to the
island by herself several times while she was in law school.  The three of
us gave each other a lot of pleasure.  A collateral benefit was that Stacy
was an accomplished sailor.  I had bought a sailboat not long after moving
to St.  George but wasn't near Stacy's level.  I had learned a lot about
sailing, and about other things, from Stacy.  Unfortunately, Stacy was not
a candidate to fill the void left by Sara.  Stacy was now working hard to
build her legal career.

   Joanne and Stacy's other friends who had come to St.  George were now
starting their careers, so I didn't see them anymore either.  Gretchen and
Beth, our neighbors from across the road, had left the island when Beth was
diagnosed with cancer.  While St.  George had a lot of great things, the
kind of sophisticated medical care Beth needed was not among them.  The
only positive change was that Art Long, Joanne's dad, had started using his
house just up the hill from mine frequently.  Art was a good guy and we had
become friends.

   I had been very lucky in my own practice and had come to St.  George
with enough money that I didn't need to work.  I still earned a nice amount
each year from passive investments.  That had been great when Sara and I
were together because it had meant that we had the time and resources to do
whatever we wanted.  It was a mixed blessing after Sara left because I had
a lot of time but nothing to do.

   I did volunteer to crew St.  George's one rescue/patrol boat.  St. 
George had bought a 47-foot motor lifeboat from the US Coast Guard.  The
boat was captained by a member of the St.  George Public Safety Service,
the government agency that handled customs and immigration, law
enforcement, and emergency response.  However, the PSS was not able to
provide a full professional crew for the lifeboat.  Consequently, several
of us who had some seamanship ability volunteered to serve as the three
crewmembers.  There were about 20 volunteer crew who served under one of
three professional captains in rotation.  Typically, we were each on call
one week a month.

   One of my weeks on call coincided with a strong storm in the Atlantic.
While the storm was not projected to hit St.  George, we would get high
winds and very rough seas.  Because of the enhanced risk, the volunteers on
duty that week spent the storm in the PSS barracks at the harbor in
Chamberlain, only a few yards from the boat if we were needed.

   Our professional captain during the storm was PSS Marine Commander
Antoinette Wilts, commonly known as "Captain Toni." Captain Toni was, in my
opinion, the best of the three captains.  She was an outstanding boat
handler with excellent judgment and courage, but she was also easy to work
with and would listen to us amateur volunteers.  In return, we volunteers
busted our asses when Captain Toni was at the helm.  During that storm, the
other crew were Bob Heddrick, who ordinarily captained a tour boat around
the island, and Steffi Williams, who was a nurse at the island's clinic. 
Bob and Steffi were good people.

   Everyone had plenty of advance warning about the storm.  Consequently, I
didn't expect that we would be called out.  Surely, the only vessels out
would be the very large commercial vessels that typically operated far
enough offshore to be out of our range.  Absent a desperate emergency, any
problems with those vessels would be handled by the better-equipped and
fully professional services on nearby islands.  I expected to wait out the
storm in the PSS barracks.

   My expectations were wrong.  We got the call while the center of the
storm was at its closest to St.  George.  A private sailboat needed help
about eight miles east of the island.  Captain Toni, Steffi, Bob, and I
quickly put on our life vests.  In compliance with St.  George's mandatory
nudity laws, the vests and deck shoes were the most we ever wore.  That was
just as well because the rain was coming down as almost a solid sheet of
water.  A small fringe benefit was that Steffi had a nice ass.

   We got underway quickly, but it was very rough outside the harbor. 
While the boat could go very fast, we made slow progress against the waves
and water.  We had brief radio contact with a woman on the sailboat, but we
lost that.  Captain Toni headed for the sailboat's last known position. 
Because the weather kept pushing us off course, it took the better part of
two hours to reach the area where we thought the sailboat should be.  The
problem was that, with the weather and the darkness (it was about 1:30 a.m.
when we reached the sailboat's last reported location) we couldn't see more
than a few feet from the boat.  The searchlight was useless.  Captain Toni
repeatedly ran the lifeboat's siren in the hope that the people on the
sailboat would hear it a fire a flare or do something to help us find them.

   We finally found the sailboat by pure dumb luck.  We almost ran over it.
Captain Toni had to turn hard to avoid hitting it then carefully brought us
back alongside.  Two women were standing in the deck, which was awash. 
There was no mast in sight.  It wasn't until we were about two yards away
that I realized that the women had been yelling the whole time.

   We fixed a line to a life vest and I dove over the side.  I swam to the
sailboat and strapped the vest around the younger woman.  Bob reeled her
the short distance through the waves to the lifeboat.  Timing the wind
gusts perfectly, Bob tossed the vest back to me and we repeated the process
with the older woman.  I was about to abandon the sailboat when a man
appeared on deck.  I have no idea where he had been, but I waved for Bob to
throw the vest and line back again.  Unlike the women, the man seemed
hostile, but I got him into the vest and Bob reeled him onto the lifeboat.
I took a small risk by free swimming back to the lifeboat myself.

   Our lifeboat had a small amount of space inside the small cabin and
below deck.  Steffi took the three people we'd rescued inside while she did
a preliminary medical exam.  Fortunately, none of the three were really
hurt, although the man seemed very angry.

   Going with the wind, the trip back in was much quicker than our trip
out. We learned that we had rescued a family.  The man, whom I guessed was
in his mid-sixties, was Karl Harlow.  We also rescued his wife Julia, whom
I guessed to be in her forties, and a girl named Sandy, whom I guessed to
be between 18 and 23.  Julia told us that they had chartered the sailboat
in Guadeloupe.  We did not ask then what they had thought they were doing
out in that storm.

   We were about twenty minutes out from the dock when Julia, seemingly
largely recovered from her ordeal, said, "May I ask you something?"

   "Sure," I replied.

   "Why is it that none of you are wearing any clothes apart from your life
vests?" Julia asked.

   "We're with the St.  George Public Safety Service," I replied.  "A few
years ago, St.  George enacted legislation making nudity mandatory for
everyone on the island at all times."

   "That's cool," Sandy said.

   "Where are you taking us?" Julia asked.

   "To our dock in the harbor in Chamberlain, St.  George," I answered.

   "Uh, does that mean that we have to go naked?" Julia asked.

   Karl, who had said nothing to that point, growled "Fuck that!"

   "Not necessarily," I answered.  "If you want to move around the island,
yes you must be naked.  However, if you would prefer to stay clothed, the
government runs a shelter at the airport.  We can have a PSS van take you
there and you can stay there until you can get a flight off the island.  I
know that sounds a bit harsh, but it is the law."

   "How often are there flights?" Julia asked.

   "Ordinarily," I answered, "there's a flight daily; although they are
often sold out.  I don't know how the storm will affect the air service."

   "What's on St.  George?" Sandy asked.

   "We have a number of beautiful beaches which are wonderful when it's not
like this," I answered.  "Chamberlain has high-end duty-free shopping and a
number of excellent restaurants.  There are several five-star resorts on
the island, and a casino near the airport."

   Just then, Steffi interjected, "We're only a few minutes from the dock.
Would you please let me know if you wish to remain clothed so we can radio
ahead for a van to take you to the airport?"

   "No one's taking clothes off," Karl growled.  "Fucking heathens!" I
thought that I saw disappointment in Sandy's face.

   Captain Toni brought us to the dock as gently as if it was a calm day.
We helped the Harlows off the boat and into our barracks to await the van
to the airport.  In the somewhat better light of the barracks, I concluded
that Julia Harlow was a handsome woman and that Sandy was borderline
beautiful.  Their clinging wet clothes disclosed that both women had very
nice figures.

   Inside the barracks, Captain Toni, Steffi, Bob, and I took off our
soaked life vests.  Julia commented, "It is surprising how much more naked
you all look without those vests on."

   Sandy said, "You guys have great tans.  Do you all live here?" We all
four nodded affirmatively.  "So, you never wear clothes?" she asked.

   "Only if we go off of the island for some reason," Steffi answered.

   Captain Toni went to her office to write her report.  Bob went to
monitor the radio.  I asked, "Does anyone want coffee?" Julia and Sandy
both said, "Yes, please." Karl just shook his head.  Steffi helped me bring
out four mugs of coffee.

   As I handed mugs to Julia and Sandy I unwisely asked, "How did you come
to be out in the storm?" Julia grimaced slightly and shifted her eyes
towards her husband and then back.

   Karl growled, "Goddamned weather warnings are always exaggerated.  Bitch
called for help when I had it under control." I thought Karl was
delusional. The storm warnings were not exaggerated, and he hadn't had
anything under control.

   Karl didn't say anything else.  However, Julia and Sandy were very
pleasant.  I learned that the Harlows were from Columbus, Ohio where Karl
owned a construction company.  Julia had been a banker until she married
Karl three years earlier.  Sandy's father, Julia's first husband, had been
killed several years before that while deployed with his Army reserve unit
in Afghanistan.  Sandy was a varsity diver at a well-known university in
the Midwestern US.

   Julia, Sandy, Steffi, and I had become reasonably friendly by the time
the van arrived to take them to the shelter at the airport.  Before they
left, I wrote down Steffi's and my cell phone numbers (St.  George had and
has very reliable service all over the island that was compatible with
North American phones) on a slip of paper and handed it to Julia.  "I hope
that you get to wherever you are going without any problems," I said, "but,
if you need anything while you're on St.  George, please feel free to call
Ms.  Williams or me."

   Julia took the slip of paper, ran her eyes over my bare body, smiled,
and said, "Thank you Harry.  It was nice to meet you."

   Sandy added, "Yes, thank you so much.  I'm sorry that we can't stay on
St.  George." Karl spit and the three of them followed the PSS officer out
to the van.

   Once they had gone, Steffi said, "I'll bet that the women would have
gotten naked and stayed but for the husband."

   "Folks from Ohio?" I asked rhetorically.  "I doubt it." With that, I put
the Harlows out of my mind.

   The storm had passed by that afternoon and Steffi, Bob, and I went home.
Bicycling from Chamberlain to my house, I didn't see much damage beyond a
few limbs down.  However, I had heard before I left the harbor that the
east side of the island had suffered much worse.  Once I had satisfied
myself that nothing had happened to my house, I went up the hill to check
on Art's place.  I was sure that he'd expect me to and would call to find
out if he'd suffered any damage.

   When my phone rang just after sunset, it wasn't Art calling.  When I
answered, I heard, "Harry Stone?  It's Julia Harlow.  We're at the airport
but it has been damaged and they're telling us that it may be several days
before it is open again.  Uh, well, uh, Sandy and I talked, and we agreed
that we want to get out of this 'shelter.'"

   "You realize. . . ." I started.

   "Yeah, I know, we have to take our clothes off," Julia said.

   "What about your husband?" I asked.

   In a hard voice, Julia said, "Karl is staying here." I'd made another
misstep.  I heard what sounded like Julia taking a deep breath.  "Where
should we stay?" she asked in a more normal tone.

   "I know a few of the hotel and resort managers," I said.  "Give me your
number.  I'll call you back when I've found you a place."

   I started calling my friends at the hotels.  That quickly became
frustrating.  Several of the larger hotels were, naturally, close to the
airport and had also suffered damage.  The largest, part of an
international chain, had moved its guests to other properties.  In short,
there were no vacancies on the island.

   After about 45 minutes of calling and a bit of begging, I was forced to
call Julia Harlow back with my negative report.  "Shit!" she said.  "Sandy
and I have had all we can take of this so-called shelter.  We're fucking
prisoners here." Julia was quite agitated.

   "Well," I said, "This may sound bad, but I've got a guest room and this
side of the island wasn't hit at all.  You're welcome to stay here."

   "God!  Thank you," Julia said.  "What is your address?  Can we get a cab
from here?"

   "Don't worry about a cab," I said.  "I'll come and get you.  Give me
about 45 minutes." I ended the call, got out the "carriage bike" with a
back seat where two people could sit side-by-side, and started peddling
towards the airport.

   The shelter at the airport really was a holding cell, although it did
not have bars on the windows or doors.  Anyone who refused to undress when
they arrived in St.  George was kept there until they were transported off
the island.  Since almost everyone came to St.  George for the purpose of
vacationing in the nude, the shelter did not get much use.  Those rare
times when it was used typically involved people, like the Harlows, who had
arrived on St.  George involuntarily.

   The shelter was a small concrete block building on a far corner of the
airport.  As I pedaled through the airport grounds, I was surprised by how
much more damage had occurred there than on my side of the island.  Even
though it was night, I could see a small army of people working under
temporary lights to clear the runway and taxiways to get the airport back
in service.

   At the door to the shelter, I had to show my island ID card, which I
kept in a small card holder held around my left wrist with Velcro, to a
young lady wearing only her PSS cap and sandals.  Her dark skin suggested
that she was one of the minority of people in St.  George descended from
the island's original inhabitants.  After checking my ID, she let me
through the outer door into an anteroom.  There, a young man dressed in his
PSS cap, sandals, and a gun belt unlocked a second door.  The young man
followed me into the inner room.

   The main room at the shelter was spartan.  There was a table and a few
chairs, four cots, and a refrigerator in one corner.  Along one wall were
four small windows just below the ceiling.  The opposite wall had a plain,
unmarked door which I assumed led to a bathroom.  While I assumed that the
shelter was air-conditioned, the room was uncomfortably warm.

   Julia and Sandy Harlow, dressed in the clothes they'd worn when we
rescued them, came up to me.

   "Thank you so much for coming," Julia said.

   Sandy gave me a quick hug and a peck on a cheek.  "Yes, thank you so
very much," she said.  I saw Karl Harlow sitting in one of the chairs.  He
just stared at me.

   With some trepidation about what I was getting myself into with these
people, I asked "Are you ready to go?"

   The PSS officer with me cleared his throat.  "Ladies, you must remove
all of your clothing before I can allow you out of this room," he said.

   "We know," Julia replied.  She bent down and slowly started to remove
her shoes.  Sandy, on the other hand, swiftly whipped off the tee shirt she
was wearing and unfastened her bra.  Sandy's breasts, highlighted by her
tan lines, were not large but were in proportion to her slender body.  They
looked firm and Sandy's small nipples looked erect.  Topless, Sandy bent
over and slid off the deck shoes she was wearing.  She straightened without
hesitation.  Her blue eyes beneath her wavy light brown hair gleamed.  She
smiled, reached down, and undid the top of her shorts.  She hooked a thumb
into the waistband of her shorts at each hip and pushed them and her
panties down her long legs to her ankles.  Sandy stepped out of her shorts
and stood naked making no effort to cover herself.  She looked very nice.

   Sandy's unhesitant disrobing seemed to give Julia confidence.  She
pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the concrete floor.  As
she reached behind herself to unfasten her bra, I could see beads of sweat
in the valley between her breasts.  A moment later, Julia's breasts were
completely uncovered.  Julia had much larger breasts than her daughter. 
Not surprising for a woman her age, Julia's breasts sagged slightly. 
Julia's nipples also appeared hard.

   Julia looked at Sandy, then looked at me.  I noticed that she did not
look at her husband who was sitting behind her.  Julia took a deep breath,
unbuttoned her shorts, and pulled down the zipper.  Wearing only a pair of
cotton panties, I could see that Julia's hips were wider than Sandy's. 
Julia's legs were shorter and her thighs bigger than her daughter's. 
Still, Julia Harlow was a very attractive woman.

   Julia took another deep breath.  She grasped the waistband of her
panties at each hip and slid them off, bending forward as she pushed the
panties down her thighs and calves.  When her panties reached the floor,
Julia straightened and took a step back.  "We're ok?" she asked her
daughter.

   "We're great!" Sandy replied with a smile.

   Julia turned to me.  "Am I properly dressed to visit St.  George?" she
asked.

   Like most people, Julia Harlow looked much better naked than clothed. 
"Quite properly," I replied.  "The two of you will enhance the beauty of
our island," I added.

   From his chair, Karl Harlow uttered one word: "sluts!"

   The PSS officer had stepped away.  He came back with two heavy gauge
plastic bags which he handed to Julia and Sandy.  "For your clothes
ladies," he said.  "Please remember that it is not legal to wear any
clothing at any time while you are on St.  George." To me, the officer
said, "We've already checked their passports.  They are free to go." The
officer asked Julia and Sandy, "You have other bags?"

   "I was with Captain Wilts when we took them off of a foundering sailboat
early this morning," I explained.  "Their bags are gone."

   To the women, the PSS officer politely said, "I'm sorry."

   "Ready?" I asked Julia and Sandy.

   Julia turned towards Karl.  "Are you sure that you won't come?" Julia
asked her husband.

   Karl simply spat again.

   Julia turned back to me with a sad and embarrassed look on her face. 
Sandy reached out and put a hand on her mother's bare shoulder.  Sandy
glanced at Karl with a look of distaste, then turned to me, smiled, and
said "We're ready."

   The male PSS officer held the door to the room open as Julia, Sandy, and
I walked through.  The female PSS officer in the outer room opened the
outside door.  "We're so glad that you've chosen to enjoy St.  George," she
said brightly to Julia and Sandy.  "I'm sure that you will find that being
naked is much preferable to being clothed," the officer added.

   Outside, Sandy exclaimed "You came on a bicycle?"

   "Yes," I answered.  "With only a few exceptions, internal combustion
engines are banned on St.  George.  Most of us use bicycles to get around
the island.  It helps keep us in shape."

   "It's worked for you," Sandy said.  She and her mother got onto the
bench seat on the rear of my bike.

   As I started to pedal away from the shelter, Julia said, "I want to
apologize for Karl.  Our marriage hasn't been working well.  This trip was
Karl's idea to try to work things out.  But he just must be in total
control.  He won't listen to anyone.  He chartered the damned sailboat in
Guadeloupe and wanted to sail to Antigua.  Everyone knew that a bad storm
was coming.  But Karl insisted that we had to go when we did, or he'd have
to return the boat without going to Antigua.  He said that the news always
makes storms sound worse than they really are.  He almost got us killed but
for you and the other people on your rescue boat.  Once we got to the
shelter, he cursed me for radioing for help.  He said that he had it
handled.  The mast was gone, and the boat was sinking!"

   Julia gave one short sob.  "When we were at the shelter, Sandy said that
she wanted to see St.  George.  She said that it would be fun to be some
place where we had to go naked, Karl called her a 'whore' who just wanted
to be 'fucked by a nigger,'" Julia said.

   "It isn't the first time he's called me a 'whore,'" Sandy said placidly.

   Julia was getting a little worked up venting about her husband.  "Yeah.
Karl thinks that the swimsuits Sandy wears in competition are too
revealing. He's said that she should dive naked since she 'obviously wants
to show her cunt to everyone.'"

   I kept quiet.  I didn't know these people well.  It certainly was not my
place to comment on Julia's husband or her marriage.

   "Anyway," Julia went on, "when Sandy said that she wanted to see St. 
George, I started thinking and decided that it might be fun and even,
maybe, a little sexy to run around naked.  I mean, it's not like anyone
here knows us.  That really pissed Karl off.  He called me a 'sick
pervert.' Karl thought this trip would help our marriage.  It's only
reinforced my determination to get out."

   This was a conversation which I thought it unwise to join.  To change
the subject, I started playing a bit of tour guide, describing the part of
the island we were passing through.  Julia remained quiet for the remainder
of the ride.  Sandy asked an occasional question.  I think she was trying
to be polite.

   As we arrived at my house, Sandy said, "Your house doesn't have any
walls?"

   "It does," I replied, "but they retract.  I usually leave the house open
to get the sea breezes.  I'll close the walls around the guest bedroom for
you."

   Julia broke her silence.  "Good god am I tired," she said.  "I haven't
slept since night before last."

   "Have you eaten?" I asked.

   "No," Sandy replied, "they didn't offer us anything but water at the
shelter."

   "I can fix some quick sandwiches if you like.  You can eat them while I
set up the guest bedroom," I said.

   "That would be wonderful," Julia replied.

   I quickly made some ham and roast beef sandwiches and set them out with
some fruit, a pitcher of ice water, and an open bottle of cabernet.  While
Julia and Sandy ate, I moved the walls to enclose my guest bedroom.  When
the women had finished their light meal, I showed them how to lock
themselves in and pointed out the small washroom with a commode and sink
that was accessible without unlocking the bedroom door.  Sandy gave me a
peck on my cheek and said, "Thank you Harry." The women went into the
bedroom and I heard the deadbolt set.

   I was up reasonably early the next morning.  I boiled some eggs, sliced
some mangoes, and prepared a plate of cold meats and cheeses for the women
to eat when they got up.  When I finished that task, I went out and sat in
one of the Adirondack chairs on my back patio, looking out on the
Caribbean.

   Around 10:00 a.m., Sandy came out on the patio.  I got a better look at
her than I had before.  She was slender but appeared well muscled.  Her
longish thighs were very firm, but not thick like a gymnast's.  Her breasts
were roughly grapefruit size with upturned nipples.  Her stomach was flat
with visible muscle.  Sandy wore her hair at a length below her ears but
above her shoulders.  Her large blue eyes had a look of good-natured
amusement.  She had a small, upturned nose and a few freckles on her
cheeks. The 'girl-next-door' look was, however, belied by very sensuous,
sexy lips.  She had very pronounced tan lines around her breasts and around
her pubic triangle.

   "Good morning," Sandy said as she walked out onto the patio.  "I need to
lose these tan lines," she said, "they draw attention to my tits and my
mound."

   "That's a problem?" I asked.

   Sandy giggled.  "No, I guess not," she said as she sat in the chair next
to me.  "How much of this is yours?" she asked as she looked around the
small cove my house sat on.

   "I own everything from the road to the mean high tide line," I said
gesturing towards a small stake on the beach.  "From there out to the
twelve-mile limit belongs to St.  George.  However, we rarely get people
coming through here.  There's a family beach just around that point," I
concluded gesturing towards the point on the south end of the cove.

   "What do you mean by 'family beach?'" Sandy asked.

   "Uh, well, the current culture of St.  George has influences from the
indigenous people and from the 'hippies' who came here in the 1960s," I
replied.  "The natives did not have the European taboos about sex and the
folks who came in the Sixties and early Seventies brought the 'free love'
thing.  In other words, sex has always been open and public on the island.
When the island started to market itself as a tourist destination, they
realized that most tourists would come from North America and would find
the public sex offensive.  Therefore, public sex was outlawed except for a
couple of 'adult beaches' and the Garden.  All of the other beaches, where
open sex isn't allowed, are called 'family beaches.'"

   "What is the Garden?" Sandy asked.

   "It is this very large park in Chamberlain that was established back
when St.  George was a colony," I answered.  "Since independence, the
government has kept it well maintained, but sex is allowed anywhere within
the park.  It is all strictly consensual, but, if you're in the park, it is
assumed that you are willing to have sex.  Half of the park is for
heterosexuals and the other is for same-sex interactions.  It is also
understood that anyone may watch anyone else."

   "Wow!" Sandy exclaimed.  "Doesn't anyone worry about STDs?"

   "Yes," I said.  "There are free condoms available at several locations
in the Garden and most of us who live here get tested at least monthly." I
shifted to my left and pointed at a small green dot on my right hip.  "A
dot in that location with the current month's color tells everyone that
you've been tested this month and are clean."

   Sandy giggled.  "So," she asked, "how often do you go to the Garden and
the adult beaches?"

   "I've been celibate for just over a year," I admitted.

   "Why?" Sandy asked.  I briefly explained the situation with Sara.  When
I was done, Sandy asked "Why do you have the dot then?"

   "I guess that I don't want to admit to myself that things have changed,"
I replied.

   "How long were the two of you together?" Sandy asked.

   "Almost sixteen years," I answered.

   "That was pretty shitty of her to leave after you'd built this house and
everything," Sandy said.

   "No," I said, "I understood.  It was family initially and once Sara got
to California and took over her dad's business, she found an outlet for her
competitiveness that she'd been missing here.  I think that she came to
think of being down here as being on the sidelines."

   "Pretty damned nice sidelines if you ask me," Sandy said.  "I can't
believe that you aren't bitter about her leaving."

   "I'm not happy about it," I said, "but she has to live her life.  I
can't control it for her."

   "Do you still talk?" Sandy asked.

   "Yeah, we talk on the phone about once a month," I replied.

   "Is she seeing someone out there?" Sandy asked.

   "I assume so," I replied.  "Sara is very gregarious and wants people
around her.  She also loves sex.  But she has had the decency not to
mention any boyfriends to me."

   "That's sad," Sandy said.  She stood up.  "Do you do yoga?" she asked.

   "No," I answered.

   "Damn.  Then you don't have a yoga mat, do you?" Sandy said.

   "Actually, I might," I answered.  "Sara did yoga for a while and had a
mat.  Let me see if it's among the stuff she left." I got up and went off
to search through the large closet where I carefully kept the things Sara
hadn't taken with her or asked me to ship to her later.  Indeed, there was
a yoga mat.  I brought it out and handed it to Sandy.

   "Thanks," she said.  "I feel sluggish if I don't do my yoga in the
morning."

   Sandy spread the mat on my patio in front of the chairs and began some
warm-up positions.  I made a point of staring off to the south.  After a
few minutes, Sandy said, "Harry, it's ok if you look.  If I was bothered
about you seeing me, I'd have gone somewhere else." I looked.  As Sandy
went through her routine, she was fully exposed to me.  My appreciation for
her beauty was growing rapidly.  I was trying hard to make sure something
else wasn't growing and wasn't completely successful.

   After about a half hour of yoga, Sandy stopped.  She had worked up a
sweat which added to her sexiness.  "I know that people do yoga in the
nude," she said, "but I never have before.  This is great!  Now, I'm going
to be unhappy having to wear clothes in my class at home." Sandy glanced
down at my semi-erection and then looked up and smiled at me.  "Where's
your shower?" she asked.

   I pointed to the outdoor shower at the side of the patio.  "There are
soap, shampoo, and towels in that cabinet," I said.

   Sandy's smile broadened.  "Another thing I haven't done before: shower
outside.  This is becoming a trip of firsts." She went over and started her
shower.

   As Sandy was showering a few feet away, Julia came out onto the patio.
Julia was heavier, shorter, and older than her daughter; but I saw a clear
resemblance.  Julia glanced at the mat and at Sandy in the shower and said,
"I guess she did her yoga?" I nodded.  Looking around, Julia said, "This is
nice.  Is it yours?"

   "Yes, above the mean high tide line," I answered.

   "How long have you been here?" Julia asked.

   "Almost fourteen years now," I said.

   "You live here alone?" Julia asked.

   "For the last year or so, yes," I answered.

   "Oh," Julia said.  I was glad that she dropped it.  Telling Sandy about
Sara had been depressing.  I didn't want to go through that again.

   Sandy finished her shower and walked towards us as she toweled off. 
"Mom, showering outside is wonderful.  You have to try it," Sandy said.

   Julia smiled.  "I will," she promised.

   I served the women the breakfast I had prepared, although it was more of
a lunch now.  Afterwards, I asked what the women wanted to do.  "I slept a
long time," Julia said, "but I'm still pretty worn out.  It's been a trying
couple of days, physically and emotionally.  I think I'll just sit here
this afternoon and do some thinking.  I'll probably go to sleep early again
tonight."

   "That's fine," I said.  "I'll bicycle up to town later and get some
fresh fish to grill for dinner."

   "Before you do that," Sandy asked, "can we take a walk along the beach?"

   "Certainly," I replied, "but you're going to need sunscreen.  You don't
want to burn any of those white bits." I handed Sandy a tube of sunscreen.
I kept them all around the house.  I was hoping that Sandy would ask me to
put sunscreen on her back, but she asked her mother.

   A few minutes later, Sandy and I were walking around the point onto the
family beach.  There was a decent crowd for a weekday in August.  There was
a mix of older people, a few folks my age, a few people with children, and
even a few teenager/twenty-somethings.  Of course, everyone was nude.

   We had walked the length of the beach when Sandy said, "I've never been
to a nude beach before, so I hadn't thought about it, but it just seems
more sensible for everyone to be naked on the beach." She paused.  "The sun
and breeze over my entire body sure feels better than wearing a swimsuit."

   "Have you skinny-dipped?" I asked.  "Being in the water nude feels even
better."

   Sandy giggled.  "Once at a quarry during freshman year, but I was a bit
drunk."

   "You want to swim?" I asked.  "We can dry off as we walk home."

   "Sure," Sandy said.  We walked into the warm sea water.  The water was
pretty shallow, and we had to go a way out before we were waist deep.  At
about that point, Sandy turned to look back at the beach.  Just as she did,
an unusually large wave knocked her off balance.  She fell into me.  I
caught her and our bare bodies touched for a couple of moments.  Sandy
smiled at me.  "Thank you, Harry," she said.

   We went further out and swam for twenty minutes or so before we went
back to the beach.  Brushing the water out of her hair, Sandy said, "Damn,
that's ruined me.  Now, I'm never going to want to wear a swimsuit again,
and I'm on a swim team!" Sandy reached out and took my hand.  "Ready to
head back?" she asked.  We walked naked, hand-in-hand, back around the
point to my cove.

   I grilled fresh fish to feed Sandy and Julia that night.  They both went
to bed early.  I sat up for a time, trying to read but thinking about the
afternoon.  I found myself becoming very attracted to Sandy and recognized
that was ridiculous.  She was only here by accident and she was probably 25
years younger than me.  Being lonely warps your thinking.

   I always slept with the walls around the master bedroom retracted, so
the next morning was not the first time I had been awakened by someone just
walking into my bedroom.  I heard a male voice saying, "Sleeping in buddy?"
It took me a second to place it as my neighbor Art Long.

   I had met Art's daughter Joanne before I met him.  Partly from Joanne's
description but mostly from my own prejudices, I had assumed that Art would
be an obnoxious, domineering rich guy.  When he started coming to the
island with his much younger girlfriend Miriam, I learned that my
assumption was grossly in error.

   Art was, indeed, very wealthy.  He and another man owned a company which
created and managed private equity funds from Manhattan.  However, Art was
not at all pretentious.  He was down-to-earth and very knowledgeable on a
wide range of subjects.  While I found Miriam to be shallow, Art and I had
become pretty good friends.

   Waking and gathering my senses, I sat up and asked, "How'd you get here?
The airport's closed."

   "Not as of this morning," Art replied.  "We flew the company jet in this
morning.  A big CA jet took off just after we cleared the runway."

   "Where's Miriam?" I asked.  Art never came to St.  George without his
girlfriend.

   Art gave a rueful smile.  "Miriam traded me in on a younger model," he
said, "son of a big-time real estate developer in the City.  The father's a
bastard, but the son might be ok."

   Sandy and Julia walked in just then.  I climbed out of bed and made
introductions.  I also explained, briefly, how the two women came to be on
the island and staying with me.  To Julia, I said, "Art says that the
airport is open now."

   Julia started out of the room and then stopped.  "Shit.  I can't call
him.  Karl lost his phone with the boat.  Sandy and I had ours in our
waterproof fanny packs, but Karl left his in the galley."

   "I can call the shelter," I said.  "They'll let you talk to him." It
took me a few minutes to find the number for the PSS "clothed persons
shelter" at the airport.  When I called, I was told that Karl Harlow had
been released onto the Caribbean Air flight that left for Miami that
morning.  I reluctantly shared that information with Julia and Sandy.

   Sandy seemed unfazed, but Julia was pissed.  "That bastard left the
island without even telling me, and left us here?"

   Sandy put an arm on her mother' shoulder.  "Mom, it's ok.  I think it is
working out better this way."

   I took Art aside and quickly explained what I knew of Julia's and Karl's
rapidly unravelling marriage.

   Stepping back to Julia and Sandy, I asked, "When were you planning to go
home?"

   "Sunday," Julia said.  "School starts for Sandy the week after next."

   "Where are you going?" Art asked.

   "Columbus, Ohio," Julia said.

   Taking his cell phone out of a small pouch he had slung over his
shoulder, Art said, "Let me check on something." He talked softly on his
phone for a couple of minutes then made a second call.  I overheard Art end
that call with "I'll be back in the office Monday."

   To Julia, Art said, "I can stay a few days and my pilot won't mind, she
loves St.  George.  She doesn't mind diverting to Columbus on our way back
to New York.  I can give you a lift if you like."

   Art has a personal magnetism.  Julia's face brightened considerably. 
She looked at Sandy, who nodded.  Julia said, "That would be wonderful. 
Thank you very much."

   Art said, "It looks like this side of the island got off easy, but I
still need to check the house.  How did Chamberlain come through the
storm?"

   "No damage at all," I said.

   "Why don't we take these two to dinner tonight?" Art asked.

   "Naked Crustacean?" I asked, that was indisputably the best restaurant
on St.  George.

   "Works for me," Art said.

   "Be here at six?" I asked.

   "You got it," Art replied.  He left.

   "What was that about?" Sandy asked.

   "Art and I just agreed to take the two of you out to dinner at the
finest restaurant on the island," I replied.

   "Oh boy," Sandy said, "going out to a restaurant naked.  Another first!"

   "Art seems nice," Julia said.

   "He is a great guy," I replied.  "I've known him for several years now.
He has that house which you can barely see up the hill there," I said
pointing.

   Sandy and Julia had lost everything they weren't wearing when their boat
had foundered Sunday night/Monday morning.  I let them go through some
year-old toiletries which Sara had left to see if they could find anything
useful.  Julia obviously did because, when she came out of the guest room
just before Art arrived that evening, she had fixed herself up.  She looked
very nice, and I said so.

   Julia smiled, twirled once, and said, "Do you like my dress?" She was,
of course, naked.

   "That is the best outfit you could wear," I said.  Julia smiled.

   Sandy stepped out of the guestroom.  "And what about me?" she asked,
smiling.  All she had done that I could notice was brush her hair, but
Sandy didn't need to do anything to look great.

   I said, "Your outfit is simply stunning."

   Sandy's smile widened.  She ran her eyes up and down my bare body. 
Then, she looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Thank you.  You look
pretty good too, Harry."

   At the restaurant, Julia and Art sat on one side of the table while
Sandy and I sat on the other.  I'm not the most perceptive of men, but I
thought that there was some sort of spark between Julia and Art that night.
Regardless, we had a great meal.  Art told some interesting stories.  I
told some boring ones.  We had a lot of laughs.  It was the most pleasant
evening I had spent since Sara had left the island.

   Back at my house after dinner, Art said "I'd love to show Julia and
Sandy mountain park tomorrow." Mountain park was the island's nature
preserve in the hilly center of the island.  It was a tropical paradise.  I
glanced at Sandy.  She gave a very slight shake of the head.

   "I haven't checked the boat yet," I said.  "I'm pretty sure that it's
ok, but I need to go to Chamberlain tomorrow to do that."

   "I'd love to see a boat that actually floats," Sandy said.  "May I go
with you?" Sandy was obviously trying to let her mother and Art go to the
preserve by themselves.

   "Of course," I answered.

   To Julia, Art said, "It's just us.  Would you do me the honor of
accompanying me to the park tomorrow?"

   "I'd love to," Julia replied.

   The four of us had a glass of wine before Art left and Julia went to
bed. Sandy and I walked out onto the patio.  There was a nice breeze
blowing in from the sea.  "Mother is my best friend," Sandy said, "and I
know her pretty well.  She's interested in Art.  Is he really ok?"

   "Yes," I replied, "I've known Art for years now.  I'd trust him in any
situation."

   Sandy laughed.  "Mother may be disappointed if he's too trustworthy."
Sandy stepped closer to me.  "Thank you for a wonderful evening," she said.
She gave me a quick kiss and went inside.

   Sandy and I biked up to the harbor the next morning.  My boat looked ok.
"Would you like to go out on her?" I asked.

   "I'd love to," Sandy replied.

   We picked up some food and wine at the harbor deli.  I motored out of
the harbor and raised sail when I was in open water.  I made course for a
small cove on the north east side of the island, about 30 minutes away.  We
were the only boat in the cove that Thursday.  I anchored and we swam for a
while in the clear water before getting back onboard, drying off, and
eating lunch.  This time, Sandy did ask me to put sunscreen on her back.

   We each savored a second glass of wine sitting on deck after lunch.  I
was pleased that Sandy no longer seemed concerned about keeping her legs
together.  I thought that a woman this wonderful must have a boyfriend at
school.  I wondered what he was like.

   "You're wondering about my personal life," Sandy said, reading my mind.
"You told me about yours, so it's only fair that I tell you about mine. 
I'm currently 'unattached.'"

   "My god, why?" I asked.  "I'm not real familiar with your school, but I
can't imagine they have any more attractive girls there than you."

   Sandy laughed.  "Thank you, Harry.  I just find men my own age a bit
immature.  Maybe I'm too defensive, but it seems to me that the guys are
primarily interested in what is between my legs.  I hope that I'm good at
sex, but I think that I'm a whole lot more than just a vagina.  Also,
school and diving take a tremendous amount of my time.  If I don't fuck up
this year, I'll get my bachelor's in finance with high honors and I think I
have a shot at winning the conference in ten-meter platform.  I don't
really have time for a superficial relationship."

   I was already impressed with Sandy.  As our conversation that day
covered a wide range of topics, I realized that she was a highly
intelligent and informed person.  It didn't lessen my opinion of her that
we shared many likes and dislikes.  However, her comment about being
unattached had me harboring unrealistic ambitions again.

   We stayed in the cove talking longer than I had planned.  By the time I
had the boat tied up in the harbor again and we had biked home, it was
dark. To my surprise, the house was empty.

   About fifteen minutes after we got home, Sandy's phone rang.  I heard
her say, "we must have been out of range." "Yes, it was a great time.  How
was your day?" "Oh, really?" "Well have fun." Ending the call, Sandy said,
"That was Mom." With a slightly wicked grin, Sandy added, "She's staying at
Art's tonight." I raised my eyebrows.  Sandy said, "No, that's good.  I'm
certain that nothing's happened between Mom and Karl for a long time.  She
needs to get laid."

   As I was fixing dinner, Sandy walked into the kitchen holding a book. 
"That's a hell of a library you have," she said.  "How many books to you
own?"

   "Three thousand and twelve," I answered.  "I counted them after Sara
left."

   Sandy held up a copy of Kerouac's "On The Road." "I've heard about this.
May I borrow it while I'm here?" Of course, I agreed.

   Despite my hopes, Sandy slept in the guest room that night.  Julia
stayed at Art's for the rest of the week.  I took Sandy around the island
including a stop in Chamberlain to buy some clothes for her trip home. 
"That's novel," she said, "shopping for clothes stark naked.  I like it."
Unfortunately, while I thought that we were becoming close, Sandy slept in
the guest room for her entire stay.  I liked her too much to risk
suggesting otherwise.

   Julia and Sandy were still nude when they boarded Art's plane that
Sunday morning.  Because it was at the private jet terminal, I could walk
out to the plane with them.  Before she went up the steps to the plane,
Sandy hugged me and gave me a kiss full on the lips.  "Thank you, Harry
Stone," she said.  She winked.  "We'll stay in touch." I didn't really hold
much hope of that.

   Once Sandy, Julia, and Art had taken off, I realized fully how much I
had enjoyed the week.  I'd lost the hollow feeling I'd had since Sara left.
It was back now.

   I was sitting on the patio that night, drinking wine and remembering the
week, when my phone rang.  It was Sandy.  "Well, we got to the house here
in Columbus and Karl was gone.  He left Mom a pretty insulting letter
saying that he was divorcing her and reminding her that he owned the house
before they married so she has to move out.  What a jerk.  I'm heading to
my apartment at school tomorrow.  Mom has some friends in Indianapolis whom
she can stay with.  It will be nice to have her closer but not too close.
And, Harry, thank you very much." We were about to end the call when Sandy
said, "Wait!  What is your e-mail address?" I told her.

   I began receiving daily e-mail from Sandy.  Many were short, just
telling me what she had done that day.  I tried to say something
interesting in response but being interesting is a challenge for me.  Some
were more substantive.  I learned that Julia and Karl had negotiated a
separation agreement that provided Julia with a large lump-sum cash
settlement.  I learned that Julia had leased a townhouse in Indianapolis
but drove down to see Sandy at school regularly.  I also learned that Julia
had made several trips to New York to see Art.

   In mid-October, I received an e-mail from Sandy that had attached a
picture of her in a form-fitting red one-piece swimsuit.  She looked very
nice.  Her message was "First meet of the season.  The rule book says that
I have to wear a suit.  Yuk."

   I took a small risk in my reply: "You look almost as good in the suit as
you do nude.  Good luck.  Please let me know how you do."

   A few hours later, I received a reply to my reply which said.  "You're
sweet.  Won platform AND 3-meter board." About a month later, I got an
e-mail from Sandy attaching a picture of her standing at the edge of a
diving board with her back to the camera.  She was nude.  She wrote, "Snuck
in after practice last night.  Heidi shot this.  You've seen it before and
I'm glad of that but thought you'd like a reminder.  Invitational starts
tomorrow."

   The next e-mail of note was in mid-December.  "Exams next week.  Wish me
luck.  Coming to St.  George with Mom and Art for Xmas.  Can't wait to see
you." I was excited and panicked.  On one hand, I did want to see Sandy
very much.  On the other hand, I still doubted the wisdom of getting
involved with someone so much younger.  I was also afraid that I'd
disappoint her.

   I called Art to confirm that he, Julia, and Sandy were coming and to get
Julia's phone number to find out what kind of Christmas gift I get for
Sandy.  I hadn't talked to Julia since she'd been on St.  George,
involuntarily, in August.  The first thing she said to me was, "Harry, I
owe you something.  I was in a bad place last summer and being on a sinking
boat with my asshole ex-husband seemed to be rock bottom.  You saved my
life.  You introduced me to the joy of going nude, and you introduced me to
Art Long.  Art is a very special man."

   "You had the courage to take your clothes off," I said.  "Art is a very
good man, but if you and he have connected, it's not because I introduced
you but because you've recognized each other as special people.  Hey, what
should I get Sandy as a Christmas gift?"

   Julia answered, "Harry, I don't know whether you realize it, or even
want it, but my daughter has fallen for you in a big way.  I know that
there is a significant age difference between you and Sandra; but I don't
think that matters as much with Sandra as it would with most girls.  It
obviously isn't my decision, but 'll be honest with you: I'm hoping that
you and Sandra form a lasting relationship.  What should you give her?  She
talks about you every time she and I talk.  Just being there for her will
make her happier than anything."

   None of that reduced my anxiety or gave me any practical advice.  I did
finally get Julia to make some specific gift suggestions which I
immediately ordered.  I did visit a Chamberlain jewelry shop where I found
a necklace with a diamond pendant which I thought would look good on Sandy.

   Sandy, Julia, and Art came in on December 23.  Thankfully, my gifts,
including small gifts for Julia and Art, had arrived.  I was waiting naked
on the tarmac as Sandy came off Art's plane.  Of course, she had undressed
on the plane.  Sandy hugged me tight and we shared a long kiss.  Her first
words to me were: "Yet another first for me: A Christmas with no clothes
on." She took my arm and said, "And I'm glad I'm spending my first naked
Christmas with you." We walked inside for her to clear immigration.

   After the three of them were formally "admitted" to St.  George, Art
came up to me and said, "Joanne sends her regrets.  I invited her to come
along, but she's spending the holidays with her boyfriends and his parents
in Boston.  I think that is getting serious.  But I know that she misses
St. George."

   Julia, of course, stayed with Art.  Sandy stayed with me, but she slept
in the guestroom that night.  On Christmas Eve, I made her dinner.  We
drank some wine and, much later, walked nude, holding hands, the beach. 
Back at the house, Sandy hugged me tightly and we shared a long kiss.  She
giggled and walked off to my guest room with an exaggerated wiggle of her
beautiful bare ass.

   At Art's request, I had arranged for the Naked Crustacean to cater
Christmas dinner at Art's house.  I was friends with the owners.  They did
a great meal.  We exchanged gifts after dinner.  I think that Sandy was
expecting the things her mother had suggested to me.  However, the necklace
seemed to surprise her.  She was sitting next to me when she opened it. 
She gasped, looked at me for a moment, and then gave me another long kiss.
I put it around Sandy's neck and fastened it.  The diamond hung between
Sandy's bare breasts.  She looked exquisite.  Her smile was the most
beautiful thing of all.

   Dinner had been around mid-day.  It was still light when Sandy whispered
to me, "We need to let Mom and Art celebrate alone." Sandy and I walked
down the hill to my house holding hands.  When we got there, Sandy said,
"Give me a minute to put the necklace some place safe.  Wait." She went
into the house for a moment and came back out.  She took my hand and led me
onto the beach.  She stopped a few feet short of the sea.  The sun was
almost touching the water.  Sandy put her free arm around my waist and drew
me towards her.  "I've got one more gift for you Harry, I hope you like
it."

   "What's that?" I asked stupidly.

   "Me," Sandy said in a very sexy voice.  She turned her right hip towards
me and pointed to a small yellow dot.  "You'll never need to go to the
Garden," she said.  She put both hands on my bare ass and pulled me into a
tight embrace.  I put one hand on her bare ass and the other on her bare
back and held her tightly.  We kissed for a long time.  Sandy was rubbing
herself against my dick.  When we broke the embrace, Sandy knelt in front
of my semi-erection.  "That looks good," she said.  She kissed the head of
my dick and ran a finger up the underside of my shaft.  "I have a place you
should put that."

   "Lie back," I said.  Sandy lay on the sand on her back with her legs
apart.  I got down on all fours between her legs and licked up the inside
of her left thigh.  When I reached her vulva, I kissed it and then began
licking Sandy's clit.  She inhaled sharply.  After letting me lick her for
a few moments, Sandy said, "Harry, in, please?"

   I moved up so that I was over her and slid my dick into her very wet
pussy.  "God, that feels good," Sandy said.  "Can we stay like this
forever?" I began moving my dick back and forth inside of her.  "That feels
better," she said as she wrapped her long, strong legs around me.  I
lowered my head and kissed her.  As I was penetrating her pelvis, her
tongue penetrated my mouth.  Before long, she began bucking her hips.  I
took that as a cue to thrust faster and harder.  Sandy gently bit my lip.
She used her legs to pull me into her as her pelvic muscles gripped around
my dick, making me push harder.  I could see sweat on Sandy's face and felt
sweat breaking out on me.  I looked in Sandy's eyes.  What I saw was the
most beautiful sight I've ever seen.  She clamped down on me even tighter
and started to grunt.  I was pushing into her with all the force I could
summon.  I knew that I would come soon.  Between grunts, Sandy said, "Let .
.  it . . .  go . . .  in . . .  me." She made a sound like "arrga" and
arched her back.  At that same moment, I exploded into her.  I lost vision
for a second.  Sandy grabbed my head with both hands and pulled me to a
fierce kiss.

   Even though I had come, I continued thrusting my dick inside Sandy's
vagina.  She hadn't said anything about stopping and her body was still
responding.  Sooner than I'd expected, Sandy grunted, "oh . . .  my . . .
god . . .  another . . .  ONE!" She arched her back again.  She slid her
head down my neck and bit my shoulder.

   Sandy finally relaxed.  I was still inside of her but was no longer
pushing.  I raised my head and torso up to let her breathe.  Her eyes were
closed.  After a long moment, she opened her eyes and looked directly into
mine.  "I love you," she said.

   "I love you too," I responded.  We kissed again, much more gently.  The
sun was down, and it was dark when I rolled off Sandy and lay next to her
on the beach.  It was a clear, starry night.  "That is how you're supposed
to celebrate Christmas." Sandy said.

   "You are a very special woman," I said.  "That was the best lovemaking
experience I've had."

   "I know I shouldn't ask this, but, better than Sara?" Sandy asked.

   I thought for a second.  "Yes," I said, "better than any with Sara."

   "So, you'll keep me?" Sandy asked.

   "Be careful what you wish for," I said.

   "I know what I'm wishing for," Sandy replied, "and I hope that I've got
it."

   "You do," I said.

   Sandy and I lay side-by-side naked on the beach for a long time.  We
finally got up and walked back up to the house.  We shared the outdoor
shower.  While there was a lot of exploring each other's bodies, we did get
the sand off.  We toweled each other off.  I sat down in one of the
Adirondack chairs and Sandy sat in my lap.  After a few minutes, Sandy
asked, "Harry, do you have Skype?"

   "No," I said.

   Sandy laughed.  "You do know what Skype is?"

   "I do," I said with mock indignity.

   "Can you get it?" Sandy asked.  "That way we can talk and see each other
once I'm back at school."

   "I know that some people on St.  George have it," I said, "so, yes, I'll
get it."

   A bit later, Sandy said, "I'm tired.  You wore me out." She stood up and
took my hand as I stood up.  Sandy led me to the master bedroom.  "No more
guest room," she said.

   "Do you want me to close the walls?" I asked.

   "No," Sandy said, "I'm safe with you and I don't care who sees us
together."

   When we were both in bed, Sandy began stroking my dick.  "I'm not trying
to fuck again," she said, "but I want to try something I've heard about."
She easily got me hard.  She got on top of me and used her hand to guide my
dick into her.  "Let's see if we can just sleep this way," Sandy said.  I
put my arms around her.

   Sandy was still on top of me and I was still inside her when we were
awaked the next morning by Art's voice saying, "Someone else got lucky
too." I opened my eyes to see Julia and Art standing naked beside our bed.
With just a thin sheet over us, there was no mistaking the position Sandy
and I were in.  Sandy opened her eyes and smiled at me.  Then she leaned up
and kissed me.

   I knew that Julia was open-minded, but I was a little nervous to be
lying in front of her in coitus with her daughter.  Both of the Harlow
women must have mind-reading ability because Julia said, "Relax Harry. 
You're the first guy Sandra has met whom I've been hoping would make love
to her."

   Sandy made no move to break our intimate connection as Art asked, "So,
what does anyone want to do today, besides sex?"

   "We can take the boat out," I suggested.

   "Can we have sex on the boat?" Sandy asked, smiling.

   "I've had a bad experience with boats recently," Julia said, "but sex
makes it worth the risk."

   "In that case," Art said, "I promise that there will be sex."

   Sandy and I got up and made a light breakfast for the four of us.  That
involved a lot of touching and rubbing against each other.  So did fixing
some sandwiches to take on the boat.

   It was a beautiful tropical day and, as we bicycled into Chamberlain,
there were a lot of people out.  As required by law, everyone was
completely naked.  Julia said, "Before we were brought here in August, I'd
have died if I'd been naked outside with strangers.  Now, I'd be angry if
someone told me to get dressed."

   "You just like to show off Mom," Sandy said teasingly.

   "Well, yeah," Julia responded.

   "Beauty like that should be shown off," Art said.

   "So should a dick like that," Julia said, nodding her head towards Art.

   "I prefer Harry's," Sandy said.

   Art laughed.  "Now I'm hurt," he said.

   Most people on St.  George have a boat and many of our visitors rent
boats.  It seemed like most of those boats were out that Boxing Day.  The
cove where Sandy and I had stopped in August was full.  I knew that there
was another cove a few miles on that was guarded by a small mangrove
island. People didn't go there either because they didn't see it or because
they were deterred by the narrow channel into the cove.  There was only one
boat there.  Like us, it had two couples aboard.  We waved to each other
and I anchored as far from the other boat as possible.

   The four of us swam for a while.  Julia and Art sunbathed on the small
beach while Sandy and I hiked around a bit in the surrounding woods.  Apart
from the folks on the other boat, there was no one around.  A bit later, we
all swam back to my boat for sandwiches and some wine.

   It was a very warm day.  The heat, the wine, and the recent end to my
celibacy had, I guess, my mind focused on sex.  The sweat between Sandy's
and Julia's breasts seemed incredibly erotic.  Art and I were sitting in
the cockpit sipping our wine when Sandy and Julia went forward to chat
about something in private.  Although Julia's was a bit larger and softer,
both women were presenting luscious bare asses to us.  I heard Julia laugh
and saw her nodding her head.  Then she called out, "Boys, would you come
up here and help us with something?"

   Art and I went forward.  As I stepped next to Sandy, I asked "What do
you need?"

   Sandy reached out a hand and grasped my dick.  "Sex," she said, "I'm
horny.  So's Mom." I didn't need any further encouragement to pull Sandy to
me and begin fingering her clit.  Soon, Sandy was wet, and I was hard.  "On
your back," Sandy said.  I laid down on the deck.  Sandy straddled me and
squatted down.  When she got low enough, she used her hand to guide my dick
into her.  Glancing to my left, I saw Julia starting to ride Art about two
feet away.

   Sandy was as good on top as she was underneath.  She soon bent down so
that I could lick one of her nipples.  I let Sandy set the pace and she
took it slow.  Having Sandy on top gave me a better view of her face when
she sat up.  Sandy's face was beautiful all the time, but the look which
she got on her face during sex was the most beautiful, and arousing, thing
I've ever seen.

   More than once, I noticed Sandy glance over at her mother on top of Art.
I think that she found it arousing that she and her mother were both having
sex within a couple of feet of each other.  Frankly, it was.  Whether that
was the cause or not, Sandy and I were into what we were doing, and we were
enjoying it.  We were in no hurry.

   My shoulders got a bit raw from rubbing against the deck, but that was a
worthwhile sacrifice.  As I heard Julia start to grunt, Sandy accelerated
her pace.  I helped as much as I could by pushing up into her.  Between the
sight of Sandy losing herself in our lovemaking and the great things she
was doing with my dick, I was soon on the verge of coming.  As I came,
Sandy arched her back and emitted a scream that must have been heard in
Chamberlain.  Immediately after her scream, Sandy collapsed onto my chest
panting as if she'd just finished a sprint.  I put my arms around her and
held her.  When her breathing slowed some, Sandy kissed me.  We lay like
that for what seemed a long time, until we heard applause from the other
boat.

   Sandy and Julia stood up.  They looked at each other for a moment and
started laughing.  They hugged, then turned to face the other boat and took
a bow.  I glanced at Art, who said, "Harry, I think that we both found
keepers."

   Julia turned back to Art and me.  "That was a blast," she said.  "We
need to do that again." None of Sandy, Art, or I disagreed.

   Unfortunately, Sandy, Julia, and Art were flying back to the States on
New Year's night.  While I'd been invited to a couple of New Year's Eve
parties, Sandy wanted to spend the night with just the two of us together.
I fixed her dinner and, afterwards, we sat on the patio and talked.  Sandy
had brought out my watch and checked it periodically because "I want to
start the year with us making love.  That's what the new year will be
about." About 11:50 p.m., we started kissing and fondling each other. 
Sandy was on her back on the beach and I was thrusting into her when we
heard fireworks around the island indicating that a new year had begun.  It
was the best start to a year that I'd ever had.

   I walked with Sandy to the steps to Art's plane.  Sandy, Julia, and Art
were still nude.  Sandy and I hugged tightly and kissed.  Sandy reached
down and squeezed my dick.  "I love you," she said.

   "I love you too," I replied.  Whether it was smart or not, I did love
Sandy.  I still do.

   Sandy turned away.  I longingly watched her beautiful bare back
disappear into the plane.  I'd felt hollow when Sandy had left the island
in August, just after I had first met her.  That was mild compared to what
I felt as she left that New Year's night.  I suspected that I was being
damned foolish hooking up with a woman less than half my age.  But Sandra
Harlow was simply too great to let go.