But Ted knew that as long as she lived in the world of ballet she would go to bed each night far too exhausted to have time for fun and games. If she hadn't missed practice this morning… if she hadn't spent the morning waiting in Mr. Hammel's outer office… She wondered if ever there would be a day in her life when she would not be so bone tired she was beyond thinking of anything but sleep.
And now twenty-seven years later the day had come. She sat on the narrow cockpit bench of her sloop, crowded between a thirteen and a fourteen-year-old boy. Which one, she wondered, would grab for her crotch first? She wore shorts and halter, with a parka over all. Each of the boys had brought a blanket against the chill fog. Little John's hand was already creeping slow as an hour hand around to the inner surface of her thigh. Albert's had dropped from her shoulders and was creeping up under her parka.
She felt the older boy's hand encounter the knot of her halter. She wanted to move, slap him or something but she was jammed so close between them that any move would send the blankets flying and what would it look like if Albert saw John's hand between her legs. Something had to be done. But what? Ted suddenly realized she had let herself drift into something that was going to prove exceedingly awkward getting out of.
It was even more awkward deciding whether she wanted out. She considered the alternatives. Were they armed. Ghetto boys might carry switchblades but she really didn't know. So far neither had threatened her. If the two decided to gang up on her and she decided to resist, what would happen? She knew the boat, knew every possible purchase for hand and foot. She was still hard as a bridegroom's pecker from a life of dancing. If it came to a free-for-all Ted knew she could probably dump one boy overboard, deal with the other, and fish out the first one at her leisure if he hadn't drowned first. But why was she thinking about fighting and resisting when actually it was quite warm under these blankets and she had firm male flesh pressing against her from both sides?
The real problem, she guessed, was an abundance of boys. Alone with either one of them Ted knew she could have an enjoyable hour of dalliance. But two together? She had heard about such things. In show business one heard about everything sooner or later. But though she was widowed and thirty-nine, Ted had never learned to consider sex as a spectator sport. Somehow she had to… She wondered if either of these boys was suggestible to seasickness.
Forget it! With her luck if she started talking about greasy food or the usual nauseous subjects they would both get sick on her. Albert's hand was creeping farther up under her parka. Instead of going around in front to grab for a tit he, was fiddling once more with the knot to her halter. She tried to contain her annoyance when he managed to get one end through a loop of the bow and pull the works into a hard knot. While fourteen-year-old Albert muttered to himself and struggled one handedly to unfasten the hard knot she dedicated herself to what the other boy was up to.
Thirteen-year-old John was still playing possum, trying to convince her and himself that his hand was not really between her legs, that he was not reveling in the sensation of soft feminine skin sliding beneath the smooth glide of his palm up her thigh toward the 'no trespassing' sign of her shorts. She wondered what he would do when be got there.
The boy was so excited at his boldness that he was breathing raggedly. She glanced covertly from the corner of her eye at his curly head. The boy's eyes were almost glazed as he stiffened with the effort to control himself. Looking down she could see the magnificent bulge in the crotch of his Levi's. The boy needed only the slightest touch or tickle to set off that Roman candle in his pants.
She kept her gaze straight forward, pretending not to notice what either of the close crowding boys were trying to do. But as she leaned forward slightly to catch the bell rope she managed to get a good look at the fourteen-year-old who was still struggling with the knot of her halter. It was hard telling which of these Would-be studs was going to cum first.
Chapter 5
Should she help one of them along the road to ruin? If she were 'accidentally' to rub against either boy in just the right way she knew he would explode immediately and ignominiously. Also, she was sure whichever boy it happened to would be so embarrassed he would immediately invent some excuse to go below and clean up, leaving her alone with the other. Which one did she want.
Albert was a year older, several inches taller and more grown up in every respect. He was almost a man. But he was still a boy so far as staying power went. The other boy, younger and smaller, might be less endowed with an imagination. Maybe he would last longer.
Good God, she thought. Here I'm actually thinking that far ahead, making plans to let one of these grubby little boys get between my legs and stick his stabber right into me! And after she had survived twenty-five years in show business without once letting it happen!
Little John used the opportunity of her slight movement when she rang the bell to move an inch closer to home plate. Albert still struggled with his botched knot. She remembered his sullenness when he first came aboard. The fourteen-year-old was feeling his oats, helpless under the first full flush of masculinity which wracked his body. But, she decided, having a stiff prick was not that much of an excuse for being a prick.
Little John's eager hands were doing their thing down there. But he wasn't so foul-mouthed as Albert. Albert-mouth. Now what was she thinking about? She remembered that first day with Mr. Hammel and wondered what these boys could be taught to do. It was hard to tell. Boys that age were so delicate in their psychological contradictions. They needed a woman so badly and were so angry at being aware of that need that they couldn't be civil to any woman. But little John hadn't insulted her yet…
Ted leaned forward and caught the bell rope again. John's hand inched closer to the hem of her short shorts. She gave thanks they were the tight kind and that he wouldn't be able to get a teasing finger inside.
Albert struggled with the knot. As she leaned forward he tossed caution to the winds and got both hands up under her parka. She saw the throbbing bulge in his crotch. As the finished ringing the bell she let the lanyard fall in such a way that it dropped squarely atop the bulge. Albert winced and gasped, stopping for a moment his struggle with the fractious knot.
"Sorry," she murmured, and picked up the bell lanyard from his lap. The palm of her hand in grasping the line fell warm and soft over the bulge in Albert's trousers.
"Ssssshit!" he hissed in a voice so low she could hardly hear.
She let the lanyard slip from her fingers and had to pick it up again. She wondered if Albert knew he was being had. Probably not, she guessed. Each generation thought it had discovered set, that old people knew nothing about it. Probably he thought she was busy thinking those abstruse thoughts reserved to the over-thirty crowd and totally unaware of his busy hands trying to undo her halter knot. She let her hand fall warm and soft over his cock again.
The boy stiffened. She felt his fingernails dig into her bare back. His whole body galvanized with the effort not to cum. She was tempted to give him another good squeeze but it would be hard to explain dropping the lanyard three times in a row. Besides, the boy was suffering. He had growled and snapped at her. Now he might as well find out who needed whom worst.