“No, Brian!” Marsha screamed, even as the euphoria of her climax still washed over her. “Spurt yourself in my crack! I want your creamy cum on my ass! Give me your heated goo all over my cunt lips! Please, Baby, please!” she pleaded. It was all Brian could do to pull out of her as the first sticky rope of cum burst forth, spraying itself on and over Marsha’s twitching little rosebud pucker. With the heat of his seed transferring to her ass, Marsha groaned in thankful delight as her tight little bubble butt was covered with the life-generating fluid from Brian’s balls. He humped her crack, each stroke between the creamy soft cheeks leaving another string of his juices to warm her delicate skin.
The foursome collapsed on each other, each one exhausted from the strenuous exertions of their muscles as they pleasured each other and themselves. Brian held Marsha’s wriggling body tightly to himself, reluctantly acknowledging the softening of his manhood after its release. She smeared his cum on his groin, then struggled to get up onto her feet.
“Where you going?” Brian begged, the coolness of his cum-covered skin returning him from the glow of his orgasm, as the night air pulled the heat out of the gooey splotch Marsha had left.
“I’m gonna wipe your cream all over the helmsman’s seat” she answered, weaving like a drunkard as she made her way to the command centre of the boat. “I’ve got your cum juice on my ass, and a pussy wet with my own juice to spread around. Then I’m coming back here to curl up in your arms. God I think I’m about ready for a good sleep, if I don’t pass out first.”
Denise struggled under Ted’s weight as she attempted to join her friend’s “smear campaign”. “Hold on a minute, Marsha. I’ve got some more cum to spread with you. That’s if I can stand up again.” She tried to push her way out from underneath her boyfriend, finally giving up as he proved to be heavier than she realized. “Ted. Move your ass, would you? I’ve got to get up, before I pee all over you, and before I wash all these juices off when I do.” Ted strained to move himself, the weariness of their sexual exertions overtaxing his muscles.
Brian grabbed a rag from the boat’s gunwale locker to wipe himself off, then took the cum-soaked piece of cloth and spread its contents on whatever surfaces he could reach. As he began to rub his and Marsha’s combined gloop on the boat’s decks, he added Ted’s spilled semen to the mix, grinding the concoction into the craft’s woodwork. Hopefully they’d all expelled sufficient bodily fluids to accomplish Marsha’s initial objectives. As soon as he and the girls had turned the vessel into a sex-juice scow, he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, curled up on the foredeck, and drifted into a deep and refreshing sleep. The last thing he remembered was hearing Marsha’s soft and steady breathing as she, too, fell into a much-needed slumber.
Denise climbed up on the dash and sat on the edge of the windshield frame, then relieved herself onto the glass. As soon as she felt that her bladder was completely emptied, she returned to Ted’s waiting arms, joining him in the dark arena of blissful sleep. It was several hours later when any of them woke again, the cool lake air chilling their skin.
“Whew!” Ted exclaimed, his loud exclamation waking the other three. “God, this tub smells like a fish packer! I sure hope this is what you had in mind Marsha, because I doubt I could cum again for another couple of hours!”
“Yech!” Marsha responded. “Well, we sure did get everything covered in sex juice, that’s for sure. I just hope Old Man Hansen gets a whiff of this shit before it clears. My idea is to leave him a note telling him his boat was found drifting out on the lake, and abandoned. We’ll leave the speculation of where it was found, and who had the boat in the first place, up to his imagination.”
“Umm, let’s leave it until first light,” Brian added, “and see if we can find our own boats. If we can rig the automatic bailer up, maybe we can pump enough water out of the hulls to tow them back home? I’m not too keen on having to replace mine, and I don’t think Ted is either.” Ted’s nodding head signalled his concurrence with Brian’s premise.
Two hours later, the sun finally lightened the sky sufficiently for them to search for the two disabled craft. They located Brian’s overturned hull within thirty minutes, but needed almost a full hour after that to spot Ted’s swamped boat. Another hour’s worth of pumping removed enough water to allow the two craft to float again. The boys lashed the sailboats together, then attached a towline to them and began the trip back towards the city’s marinas. They’d barely gotten underway when the Lake Patrol vessel came upon them, having been running a search around Cormorant Island, the site of the first channel buoy they’d used yesterday as a race marker.
Pulling alongside the speedboat, the Patrol hailed them, demanding that they heave to. Brian complied, waiting for the patrol’s crew to come aboard.
“You’re Brian Whatcom, aren’t you?” the patrol officer said, more as a statement than a question. “I recognize you from your Dad’s work for the Patrol service. We’ve been looking for you four since late last night. How come you’re still out, and in this boat? This belongs to Hansen’s doesn’t it? Care to explain?”
“Well, Officer, we were out sailing yesterday when this boat came flying up from out of nowhere, and blasted between our sailboats. The wake swamped Ted, and flipped mine over. We had to swim over to the island. When we got there, this boat was floating about a hundred yards offshore, deserted and abandoned. There wasn’t enough light to make it back to town, so we waited until first light this morning, and salvaged our own boats. Now, we’re hoping to be able to get back to the marina, call Mr. Hansen, and start repairs on our sailboats.”
The officer took one whiff of the disgustingly-scented air, wrinkled his nose, and almost looked nauseated. “Good grief, this thing smells like a busy brothel!” he observed. “What the heck happened to make it stink this bad, anyway?” The two girls fought hard to cover their stifled snickers as Ted voiced his fabricated theory.
“As a guess, I’d say either someone was poaching, or having one heck of an orgy, sir. There’s some stuff smeared all over the place, and I don’t think it’s fish guts. Who knows what happened, for sure, or for that matter, where they got to?” Ted suggested. “All we know is that the boat was abandoned, and we’re trying to return it to Hansens, as well as get our own boats back home.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea” the officer agreed. “Do you want an escort back, or will you be okay on your own?”
“No, we should be fine, thanks” Brian told the officer. “It’s only fifteen miles or so back to the marina. Once we get back, we’ll phone Mr. Hansen, and he can do whatever he wants with his speedboat. That’s assuming he can handle the stink.”
“Okay, but you kids be careful. There’s another bad wind expected later this morning. We’ll keep an eye out for you on our way back. Meanwhile, we’re searching for Jeff Hansen. It seems he cleaned out his father’s liquor cabinet and disappeared. Maybe he’s still on Cormorant Island?” All four teens just shrugged their shoulders as the officer made his way off the speedboat and back to the patrol vessel. As soon as he was out of ear-shot, Marsha burst into a fit of laughter.