"From what Maddy says you'll figure a way to beat the waves and invent ocean sex," said Flair drily.
The conversation was not going the way Phil liked. This kid was too forward. She'd shot him two insults inside of a minute. That got his back up.
"So I've got the name," he told her. "I might as well have the game."
He reached out and ran one hand down the sweet slope of Flair's naked back. Gently he squeezed the satin smooth globe of one buttock, slick from the water. Let's see how Miss Tart Lip took that!
No scream. No slap. Instead she calmly reached down and grabbed his half-erect cock.
"Oh!" said Phil.
She squeezed it as he had her buttocks, but in the awkward way women handled men's pricks. Then she pumped it and that felt very, very good. Phil felt an awesome rush of pleasure. He'd been five days on the train coming East, with no dates, and not much before that. His balls were loaded. His blade powered up to full erection in only a few of her hand strokes.
"Ah-huh!" he gasped.
"That's my best stroke," she said.
"Uh. I've g-got one too," he said. He felt along her warm inner thigh and up between her legs. Her cunt was right where it was supposed to be, a bush above, two soft lips in his hand and warmth inside.
"Ah-huh!" she gasped in her turn as his fingers bored in.
For a wild few seconds they treaded water, mutually masturbating each other, as if seeing how far the outrage between perfect strangers could go. Phil's cock throbbed with intense pleasure. He could feel her quivers as he probed inside of her cunt.
Flair suddenly released his jabber. "Why am I doing this?" she asked the ocean. "I don't care about your stupid prong. Finish yourself. Uh, uh!"
She gave another gasp at his invading fingers that had worked a short way inside of her box and expertly pressed on her clitoris. She eased her loins off his hand. She began to swim away rapidly.
Phil stared after her in awe as he tread water.
"You're a virgin!" he cried after her, astonished. His fingers had told him the truth. A flapper she might be, and wild, but no man had invaded that glorious belly. Probably because of her tart lip, he thought.
She scolded him over her shoulder.
"That's right, Mr. Prick!" she cried. "Shout it to the world. Yell it to the Boardwalk. I'm proud of it and no man will ever change it. Especially you!"
She swam on, while Phil looked back over his shoulder. George's boat drifted some distance away. There was no sign that Panther tried to rescue himself by rowing. The yacht looked closer.
He saw Flair reach the yacht's landing platform at water level, saw a white uniformed servant come down the ladder to hand her a large towel to cover her nakedness. She stood there a moment staring at Phil across the water. A warm wave blurred his vision; when he cleared it, he saw her final gesture of contempt. She deliberately opened her towel to expose herself fully for a second, then closed it and went on up the ladder.
"Bitch," he groused. But he was still hard. That body was as shapely a figure as he'd seen in all his twenty-seven years. Wasted on a hard personality, he thought. Sadly he swam on to the yacht.
No servant greeted him. Nor was there anyone on sight on the deck.
Naked, he felt very exposed, but no one came into view. The boat tugged gently at its anchor like some ghost ship without humanity aboard. Weird!
Silence. Creaking anchor chain. Sunny deck. Ahead of him were twin doors of some master cabin. He went through, anxious to hide his nudity. He found himself in a glass-walled living room, carpeted, with a bar, chairs and tables. The carpet was thick and new, the furniture gleaming brown wood. Old Singleton must really be rich because this was ultimate luxury, a craft more than a hundred feet long, with glittering appointments, solid wood, shining brass, eye-blinding whiteness of white paint. He dripped a little water on the rug.
No humans. No sound. It was spooky, all right. He crossed the big cabin to a door at the other end. It opened into a hall, empty, with closed doors on the left and right. Sleeping quarters for the millionaire? There was a bright blue carpet with an embroidered "S". New. It felt good on his feet and he made no sound.
He walked down the hallway, half the length and stopped at a big door on his right. Should he knock? Or just barge in? He stood uncertainly in front of the door.
There was a sudden rush of feet and he felt his arm grabbed and twisted up behind him. A solid body hit his and drove him through the door, as he grunted in surprise. His arm was locked up behind him. He and his attacker burst through the door, and it was a bedroom, right enough. There was a huge bed with a satin spread and an "S" embroidered on it.
The surprise of the sudden attack had caught him off guard, but now he brought his strength into play. His assailant had to use both arms to pin his one arm but slowly he was able to pull it loose. His attacker pressed against his making him realize that it was a woman, that she was nude, that it was Flair Singleton. The smooth skin, the warm flesh were dead giveaways. He jumped forward out of her grasp, ending in the middle of the room.
"Aha!" she said. She spun around and locked the cabin door.
He stared at her thunderstruck. She was still baby naked. Close up, out of the water, he got the full effect of her unclad body. She had a beautiful face with a pug nose and those bright blue eyes. Her thick hair was wet, of course, much darker than it would be when dried and coiffed. She had broad shoulders for a woman but they matched her powerful but softly curved body. There was the shapely torso, soft rib cage, sexy belly button and flat belly.
"Aha?" he asked, swallowing hard.
Her eyes dropped to his crotch. His cock still jutted out stiff from his belly. In his loaded condition, the blood would seep away most slowly and reluctantly. His prick wanted to deliver its load of manhood into the world.
She walked up to him. She took his big prodder in both of her warm hands.
"Would you believe that I've never touched a man's sex until yours in the water a few minutes ago?"
Her voice was softer. She looked shy.
"In-interesting," he said. He was so stricken by her beauty, by that tanned, silken skin, the glow of health, the voluptuousness of her body that his mind felt thick, non-functioning.
"My father protects me. My father won't let me have anything to do with sex," she said. "Is it all right if I look at you?"
"Why… why not?" he stammered, still transfixed.
Her hands had thrilled him. Now she opened them to look closely at his cock, bending down with those great breasts slightly extended.
He felt a sweet rush of desire from his sex centers up and down his spine. She rubbed and stroked the mushroom shape of his swollen cock head, pumped the skin on the shaft. He gave a gurgle of pleasure as thrills shot through him.
"Ohhhhhh."
"That feels good, doesn't it?"
"Baby, that feels incredible! What you've got there is a length of muscle made hard by the rush of blood to the organ, which swells and makes the skin tight, but the skin can move a little and excite a million and a half pleasure nerves so that a man walks up on his toes, creaming and crooning. Ahhh. We call it masturbation."
"Like this?"
She pumped his cock vigorously.
"Oh, baby!" he cried. "You'll cause an explosion. I've got enough stuff inside to blow off your hands."
"You've got to explain sex to me," she insisted. "It's my one chance of a lifetime. Dad never lets me go out alone. He hires guards. But they're away, he's away. Suddenly on the ocean I'm with a man, he's naked, and his thing is risen hard. I can't pass this up."
She was so different than on the ocean that Phil couldn't believe it. In the water she was tough, mature. Out of the water she was totally innocent. Or playing so.