The Yacht Club
by Vinnie Tesla

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

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 <CRACK>
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

     "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

     "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

     "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.


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


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."


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

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,

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

    "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

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

    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

    "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

    "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

    "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

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

      "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.

END Part 1

      [AUTHOR NOTES: This is another experiment of course. I started
      out wanting to play with some standard ASSM story tropes. Then I
      decided to start *in media res* to cut down on the traditional
      reader practice of skipping forward to the "good part." This
      ended up leading to the confusing cutting back and forth I end up

      I was a couple pages into the Tina/Vinnie sex scene when I
      realized I wasn't having fun, and I needed to rethink how I was
      telling it. In the meantime, I figured, I'd run the introductory
      material up the proverbial flagpole.

      I generally try to follow Uther's code conventions, but I used
      the deprecated "teen" code here 'cause individual teen pairings
      get such short descriptions, but the overall presence of the
      material seemed worth warning readers about.

      As always, I'm eager to hear what you thought. More reader
      feedback means more followup chapters.	     ]